That New Girl
by Linx Flame
Summary: What happens when Gwen, a big city girl with an extremely rich, extremely absent father arrives in Dillon Texas for good? Only time will tell how she deals with the characters of Friday Night Lights.
1. Chapter 1

Dillon Texas, the middle of freaking nowhere. When her father told her they'd be moving there, away from the distractions (comforts really) of the city, Gwen nearly shot him. She always lived near a city, perfectly content to move to a new one. Detroit, Boston, New York, Philly, Seattle and most recently LA, Gwen's family lived all over the country. But a little rural town in Texas? What could her father be thinking? Yes, she understood his empire finally stabilized but no, she didn't comprehend why he wanted to sit back and watch it all from Dillon Texas.

The minute Gwen walked into Dillon High she knew her father lost his mind. Though the middle of fall, everyone still wore bright colors, and oh God, football jerseys. Two fingers gripped her Dolce & Gabbana oversized sunglasses and pushed them back over her perfectly highlighted auburn waves. Clearly she missed some fashion memo about small towns in Texas because only she wore more than an ounce of black. Her black leggings and shirt dress along with black ballet flats and a thick turquoise belt didn't seem to accurately blend with all of the brightly clothed teens of Dillon High. Her senior year and she had to graduate from this ----hole? She bet they didn't even offer AP Calculus let alone AP Studio Art. Gwen toyed with her turquoise beads absently as she tried to ignore the stares from the students in the hall. Unfortunately for her, this day would not get easier and she wouldn't go unnoticed her first day at Dillon High. One 'dashing' football player stepped in her way and continued to block it as she tried to step around him.

"Hey hey hey, where you goin'? The Smash makes it his job to know all the lovely ladies at Dillon High and I certainly haven't see your fine..." Luckily for Gwen a girl with pretty hair and a flowered shirt slapped her hand over "Smash"'s mouth before he could say anymore. The girl seemed sympathetic enough towards Gwen's plight; obviously this happened to quite a few girls, not just herself. Her savior from Smash's 'attentiveness' proceeded to step around Smash and give him a no-nonsense look to which he responded by backing away and throwing his hands up in the air defensively. Perhaps this 'Smash' had a vulnerability with this girl, a note Gwen made sure to take. Things could go either way at Dillon High; she played the rebel and popular chick before so if things went badly her first day at Dillon High her decision would be made for her.

"Hey look baby you know I was just welcoming the new girl..." A stony glare once again caused him to shut his mouth, and the girl, who Gwen began to suspect held the official title of Smash's Girl, slid an arm through his. Gwen stared at them for another few seconds, and then simply walked past them, heading for her locker. She couldn't tell whether she just felt shocked or if she wanted to give them the cold shoulder. Pretty sure that they didn't have a clue what her motive was, Gwen just continued down the halls and hoped she would make it to her locker without any more incidents. She needed a game plan for handling a high school like this. All the other schools she figured out pretty easily. Rebel in Detroit, New York, Seattle. Popular in Boston, Philly, LA. She still received e-mails from everywhere but her hometown of Baltimore, which she didn't remember much of anyways. Whether she went towards or against the grain the fact existed that Gwen Phillips knew how to make friends and keep them for life.

Only here it almost seemed like she didn't have a choice. Usually Gwen would take this school as a rebel. She knew that fashion changed down here but she expected to be thought of as trendy or stuck up, not... anti-social. But every suburban school near a city that she attended had two clear groups- popular mainstream and popular anti-mainstream. Only here did she find they all fell into the popular mainstream category. If she decided to go the popular anti-mainstream route only she would belong to that group. Gwen felt completely annoyed that Dillon Texas messed up her pattern. All her preppy clothes from Boston didn't fit, besides the fact they were five seasons old. Her trendy Los Angeles clothes would never fly here and her clothes from Philly fell into the relaxed category more than the fashionable one. Looked like she would get a whole new wardrobe that weekend.

Finally, finally Gwen reached her locker, able to avoid the rest of the football players in the hallway. Opening her hand, Gwen stared at the numbers written in black eyeliner: 34-2-20. Her eyes stared at the palm of her left hand as she twisted the knob. Come on, come on... the locker popped open with a click as she lifted her finger under the plastic mechanism. With just a hint of pressure from her finger she swings the vented metal door open to reveal... nothing. No neon paint marks, no band stickers, no crumpled pictures, nothing. Just a pristine, empty locker. Taking her oversized bag off her shoulder, Gwen digs into it for her lunch packed in a clear plastic container filled with organic food. She bet the nearest organic shop was in San Antonio or something. Then a bell out of a cheesy 80s teen flick like The Breakfast Club rang and the other students started to move to class. Gwen took her precious time. After all, as the new girl she planned on using that for an excuse why she would waltz in late to economics, looking all frazzled and rushed. That gag worked every time, so Gwen just reached into the bottom of her bag and pulled out her precious little shoebox of photographs and magnets. With Carrie in Detroit, a picture taken on the last day of school in their 'really cool' baggy black pants and striped tank tops making an 'I'm too cool for school' pose. She tagged that up with a magnet. Next the smiles of her and Stephanie and Reed, all in brightly colored bathing suits on the Cape that summer, tanned and freckled and burned, respectively. She tagged that one up under the first picture, so drastically different from the first. About to tag up the bohemian clothed gang from New York sitting in a booth at the Hard Rock Cafe, a teacher with long blond hair seemed to have spotted her and walked towards her with a purpose. Uh oh, busted.

"Honey are you deaf or are you just blatantly ignoring this school's rules on getting to class on time?" The woman stood with her arms crossed over her chest and a no non-sense look formed on her face. She would have to come up with something really good, like a sob story or something to cover her butt or she would really get off to a bad start here at Dillon High. With a quick, shocked, doe eyed expression, Gwen dropped her lower lip into a surprised, non-offensive position and made sure her eyes turned wide and innocent. Gwen attended an arts school in New York. She knew she could pull the wool over the eyes of some simple southern teacher. She clutched the precious shoebox to her chest, making clear effort to keep the box safe.

"I'm sorry I'm new here... I just couldn't bear getting through the school day without putting up the pictures of my friends from home..." she said, her voice trailing off with emotion. She tried to give the teacher enough emotion to actually get off the hook and the teacher seemed to buy it. Teachers had the same mentality everywhere. They remained predictable, even in this crazy little town called Dillon. She wondered if they gossiped about her new house being built as if the most exciting thing other than football sat down the street in the form of a southwestern style mansion. Dad promised this house would come to symbolize home. Gwen doubted that one; if she could she would get them back to LA in a month or less.

"Let me see your schedule while you put the rest of you pictures up. I'll show you the way to class." Great, now she had the teacher babysitting her. What next, getting roped into baking pies for the county fair? She dug out the envelope with her schedule inside to hand it to the teacher; Gwen told her father to try and make it just like her senior schedule in LA. One glance this morning told her she had economics first, and economics hadn't been anywhere on her schedule back in LA. Gwen couldn't bring herself to look at the rest of the schedule to see if she could continue with AP Studio art. Pulling the last three pictures from her shoebox, Gwen hung them neatly on the board. Relaxed and chilling in front of the Liberty Bell in Philly with Jett and Sarah, at a rock concert in Seattle with Grayson and Liam, and most recently shopping in LA with Lydia, Veronica, and Lauren. Her life so far, leaving every place she went to. She had hoped that they would remain in LA after she started her second year there, but as usual her father had other plans.

"Economics with Welley, should be this way," the teacher said, pointing. "I'm Mrs. Taylor, the school guidance counselor by the way. You're... Gwendolyn Phillips. Gwen then?" Mrs. Taylor held the paper back out to her. Gwen nodded with a slight smile of approval to let her know the answer to her question, but said nothing in return. The guidance counselor gave her a funny look and started down the hall. Gwen paused, unsure of whether she should follow, and decided to anyways. After walking past decorated bulletin boards that she found only in middle schools at her previous home and big poster projects, they stopped in front of the uniform blue doorways to what Gwen assumed contained Economics 101. What did her father think, that she'd take over his stupid 'empire' someday?

"Um, thanks for your help," Gwen said, and pressed down on the gold handle. She needed luck though if she would ever survive Dillon High. 


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Notes: So sorry I haven't updated in a couple weeks!!! I've been so busy with school and going home and everything else under the sun... Anyways, I hope you like it! Crits and comments welcome!

Thanks for all the positive feedback last time! I really appreciate it!

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Cracking the door open a hair, Gwen could tell that the econ class had not commenced yet. Not that it really mattered- she would prefer to think that sketching out ideas for makeup work in AP Studio Art back home would benefit her more than paying attention in this worthless class. Dear old Dad never understood his daughter's artistic tendencies in terms of a career. The cackling of her classmates told her they didn't take this class too seriously either. She caught snippets of gossip through the crack.

"Dude, did you see how..." "So I told him, if he ever even looks at her again..." "I totally get that man, don't worry about..." "Did you see that new girl? What is she, gothic or something?"

Gwen had enough of this crap from these people. She entered the class, head held high. The economics teacher, a short, stout man with bald head shining and too thick glasses emphasizing his buggy eyes which gave her a stern, somewhat puzzled look stood in the front of the classroom. The desks appeared to exist in the same spots since 1973, mint green chairs and old wooden desks covered in graffiti. The bald man stared straight at Gwen, waiting for an explanation of the rude interruption into class just as he wanted to commence with his lecture.

"Well young lady, are you lost?" he asked, still staring at her with bug eyes, speaking in a slow, patient drawl despite his clear impatience. The class fell mostly silent; a whisper passed between two of the rally girls followed by a suppressed giggle from the same one who called Gwen a goth. Apparently Dad's money didn't make much of an impression there, though clearly the girls around here knew next to nothing about designer clothes. Gwen reached up and touched her D&G sunglasses right near the logo, looked pointedly at the giggling rally girls, and then returned her gaze to... Gwen glanced at her yellow paper schedule. Mr. Winthrop. Figures that all of the teachers in this school would have common predictable names. How boring.

"Well Mr. Winthrop if you really must now I'm new here and I'm afraid I got lost somewhere between applying black lipstick in the ladies' room and your class," she said, her eyes looking at the rally girls rather than Mr. Winthrop. "But if you don't mind I'll just take a seat in the back of class and you can return to lecturing." Gwen watched the heat build in Mr. Winthrop's face at her insubordinate outburst. Gwen thought only Elmer Fudd turned that red, but apparently Mr. Winthrop held the temper of his puritanical ancestors or so she assumed. Gwen kept a tight grip on her hobo-style handbag and took a seat in the back of the room, the only one open in the whole room. As she dug out her sketchbook with one hand, Gwen pushed her hair from her eyes with the other. Though the class still seemed slightly shocked, Gwen could tell that they had begun to judge her for themselves if they hadn't already done so from her interactions with "Smash"… a tap on her shoulder brought her attention to the person to her right. Just her luck.

"You dropped this out of your bag" a charming face connected to a hand that held out one of her white-tipped sketching pencils. Great, as if this day could get any worse, Gwen just chose to sit right next to the football player she'd nearly plowed into in the halls and then ran away from practically screaming. She reached out cautiously to take the pencil from "Smash". He retracted his hand quickly with lightning-fast reflexes. Gwen lifted her eyes up to look at his instead of at their hands. Her eyes filled with fire and an 'I don't want to deal with your bull----' look. Smash seemed unfazed by her attitude and leaned closer conspiratorially.

"You can have it back once I learn your name," he spoke in a low voice, still holding he pencil towards himself. "If you're gonna be friends with the Smash he's gotta know your name." Did he just say friend? The football player in the hallway who spoke about himself in third person and hit on her despite his girlfriend wanted to be her friend? She'd practically snubbed him in the hallway and he wanted to take her under his wing? Well, she supposed these things happened for a reason. After all, what other path had she to follow? This little town provided the only conundrum of her entire life.

"It's Gwen. Can I have my artist's pencil back now?" she replied to him, still with attitude but with a hint of a resigned mindset. The rally girls kept looking back at her, shooting nasty stares in her direction. If looks could kill… well she didn't want to think about that. Gwen knew she would have to deal with them sooner or later. Mr. Winthrop turned around to stare at her. Clearly she'd gotten off to the wrong start with him. Well, that's what Dad got for making her take economics instead of an art course. He still didn't comprehend why she spent hours on her portfolios for art schools instead of her essays for liberal arts or business schools. Her father just didn't get that his little girl didn't want to end up in the corporate world with his destruction of family values and his tossing of money at her like it makes everything all better. Oh, Daddy's pockets would hurt this weekend, but he still wouldn't get it. Her attention returned to Smash, who held her pencil out in return, having watched to make sure that Mr. Winthrop safely faced the front of the room.

"You should sit with us at lunch," he said as she took the pencil from his hands. Gwen gave him odd look. Sit with the football players at lunch? No way. She'd seen all of those teen movies where all the football players sat together to check out girls. No way in hell did she want to submit herself to that sort of torture, no way. But something in Smash's eyes made her think she might just do that. After all, what harm could it really do to sit in the presence of the football players at lunch? Not exactly the image she wanted to portray, but Dillon High hadn't proved typical either. Smash seemed sincere enough, though what about him she trusted Gwen couldn't exactly put her finger on.

"Only if you tell me your name," she said in reply, tucking her pencil back into her bag. Gwen looked at him, making sure he knew that she meant his real name, not just "Smash". For a second he appeared to debate in his head whether or not he should go ahead and tell her, but his big Smash smile formed on his face, revealing his pearly teeth in a perfect grin. The girls of Dillon High must want to kill Smash's girlfriend every time they saw that grin. Somehow this larger-than-life, full-of-himself self-proclaimed god of the football field surprisingly grew on Gwen, despite the fact that she wanted to get out of there as soon as possible. If for some reason she did get stuck here in Texas Hell, she felt like Smash's friendship would remain a positive thing in her life.

"Brian. My name's Brian," he replied, just before the bell resonated through the cemented blue and white halls of Dillon High. Luckily for Gwen the classes seemed to go by pretty quickly here at Dillon High with no block scheduling. "I'll see you at lunch," Smash said, grabbing his backpack and slinging it around his shoulder while walking backwards towards the door, "noon sharp. We sit at the corner table." Gathering up her art pencils, Gwen made her way to the door, following Smash who had turned around very gracefully for a football player, or so she thought. She really needed to remember that football players could dance ballet with their agility; they chose not to. Just as they stereotyped her she stereotyped them, and just as she did not like being stereotyped, she assumed they didn't like when she stereotyped them either. Keep an open mind she thought to herself as she made her way out the door and walked right into yet another football player, knocking the books out of his hands.

"Oh, oh I'm sorry I didn't see you there," the football player said stammering in a voice deeper than she expected, reaching down to pick up his books from the floor. Gwen knelt down to help him out. After all, she seemed the klutz today. His blue eyes seemed to pause on her and then recognize her with embarrassment. "Oh no, you're not the new girl from Los Angeles are you? I am so sorry I was running late this morning because Gramma, she was wandering again and I missed a ride with Land-- I, I'm sorry I was supposed to welcome you to the school help you get used to it and everything. I'm Matt Saracen," he said, and stood up to hold out his hand to her, dropping yet another book in the process. Gwen picked it up on her way up and then took his hand to shake it. This awkward football player clearly assigned to her because he sat on the bench all practice with nothing else to do would have to help her integrate into daily life at Dillon High. Daily life at Dillon High- what a great phrase. Every one of her movements gracefully contradicted the clumsiness of this boy who stood in front of her. He could not be older than 16.

"I'm Gwen," she said, introducing herself to the poor boy who hadn't even had the time to remember her name. The girl from Los Angeleez was she? Well they never pronounced it that way at home that's for sure. She thought she heard a whistle from down the hall and whirled to face the direction of the noise. Both she and the awkward Matt Saracen watched some players parade down the hall obviously part of the starting line-up. They stopped to exchange 'man hugs' with Smash/Brian before continuing on their way. The four boys made a formidable force, probably thinking just how cool they must appear to everyone else. Maybe trying to impress the new girl. Either way, they came to a stop near her location.

"Heeeyyyyy QB1, what's going on man? You ready for tonight's game?" Saracen seemed to take on a new air of confidence as he fist pumped all the guys who walked past, not dropping a single book in the process. Even his posture seemed straighter. Incredible. Hey wait, what did QB1 mean anyways? Gwen tried to rack her brain for the little to non-existent football knowledge she had. 11 players on each side, using a oval-shaped ball that used to be made of pigskin, goal posts at each end allowed for scoring of extra points and the only actual use of the feet really in the game... passes thrown by a central player, known as the quarterback. Quarterback. QB. QB1 equaled first string quarterback? Holy ----! Would this school stop surprising her? First she's got a self-centered running back who talks about himself in the third person asking her to lunch and then she's got the quarterback as her welcoming crew? Maybe she'd walked into another dimension or something. Either way, she would have an interesting few weeks at Dillon High. She knew it. 


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Notes:

Hey everyone! Sorry it's been so long- I'm in the middle of finals at the moment and have been wicked busy, so I haven't had much time to write. Anyways, I hope you enjoy the installment and I really appreciate the feedback! Keep it coming!

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Semi-finals. Even talk about her took a back seat to talk about semi-finals. All she heard about in those three other classes before lunch consisted of how "our linebackers match up to theirs," of "how many touchdowns Smash would score," and questions of "Saracen's mental preparedness" which she seriously doubted. The kid came to meet her after every class, pencils hanging from his book bag, always trying to balance other things he'd not had time to shove in before rushing to the next subject. Twice she saw Mrs. Taylor with her bright motherly smile and golden blond hair and twice she wanted to gauge her eyes out for it. Everyone treated her the same that day except Smash; those altogether too friendly smiles hiding suspicion and judgment. At least people up north and on the coasts just ignored her or glared at her. The fake friendliness here made her sick.

"Uh the cafeteria's this way," Matt Saracen said in an awkward tour guide capacity, pointing towards the very obviously marked cafeteria. They already missed ten minutes of lunch due to the stops at both lockers and a few dropped books. Granted it meant she wouldn't have to deal with awkwardly looking for a table, but still she didn't want staring eyes when she and Saracen walked into the cafeteria. The quarterback and the new girl would provide the rumor mill with enough fuel for quite a while. As they walked, about halfway down the hall a girl with long blond hair walked in the path of a head-on collision with the two of them, a brilliant smile on her face. She walked straight into Saracen, wrapped her arms around his neck and touched her nose and forehead to his. Matt Saracen turned red although a grin formed on his face.

"Hi Julie," Saracen said to the blond girl in a deeper, raspier voice. Clearly happy to see this girl, he somehow managed to wrap an arm around her waist without dropping anything. He planted a ligt kiss on her lips and turned even redder. Taking this as her cue to leave, Gwen left the side of Matt Saracen and walked the rest of the way to the cafeteria. She didn't notice when Julie turned around to look at her, giving her boyfriend a questioning look. Gwen had pretty much gotten used to the questions and the whispers though she hated them more than anything in the world.

A blast of noise greeted her as she entered the crowded, chaotic space called the Dillon High cafeteria. Kids with Styrofoam trays munched noisily on their food, talking loudly about- what else?- semi-finals. Some girls sat at a long square table to her right, probably freshmen, blabbering on about some 'important' gossip about who Tim Riggins would take to prom now that he couldn't take Tyra or Lyla- whoever they were, not that she really cared and from the sound of it neither should these girls have. If this Tim Riggins actually stood on the pedestal these little girls put him on, she doubted he'd take any of them to prom. As she walked past them and continued to scan the room for Smash and his friends (which she assumed all played for the Dillon football team) she felt a buzzing inside her purse and fished out her phone to flip it open. As she did so, with her focus downward and her feet stationary, a large force pushed hard into her shoulder, knocking her backwards and onto a sitting position on the floor. With a slow rise from her shocked position on the floor, her eyes gained a deadly look within them as she tilted her head to see the face of the person who'd knocked her down in front of the whole school which seemed to go quiet at witness of the event. 

Her death-glare eyes met with green-hazel eyes staring down at her from a handsome chiseled face. Longish brown hair fell around his defined jaw as he looked at her with at first a somewhat apologetic look before noticing the damning look in Gwen's eyes. His own expression changed, facial features hardening to stone. Immediately her eyes glimpsed the blue-gold of his football jersey, causing her to internally groan. More football players. The whole school swarmed with them and it seemed as if she attracted football players like a magnet. Brian "Smash" Williams. Matt "The Klutz Except in the Clutch" Saracen. And now, she ran into Mr. I Don't Watch Where I'm Going Because I'm Too Cool To. Would her first day in Texas Hell get any better than meeting the starting lineup of the Dillon Panthers? Obviously not. Unfortunately, even standing on her tiptoes wouldn't generate an intimidating stance towards 6'3" of pure muscle. Still she squared her shoulders and prepared to spit daggers at whoever knocked her down. She'd just about reached wits' end here and wished more than anything she could feel the cool California surf on her skin.

"I thought Southern boys were taught to be gentlemen by their mothers at a young age," Gwen said nastily, sarcastically, and loud enough for the whole cafeteria to hear, though it seemed as if a pin could drop and everyone would hear it. Gwen stood on both feet, apart in a solid stance despite her stylish shoes. Her index and thumb on her left hand gripped the hinge of her sunglasses, as if to say "what were you thinking?" She knew that whatever he did next she would have to deal with for all her time at Dillon. This exchange would define her in the eyes of the Dillonites. If that meant becoming class bitch, fine. She became class bitch. But class bitch certainly had more merit than class slut or class football groupie. For a minute, Tim Riggins looked like he would say something right back at her. But instead, he leaned closer and spoke in a soft harsh tone, not loud enough for anyone but her to hear.

"My mother didn't teach me shit. And if I were you, I'd keep my mouth shut around here," he replied to her, in a tone shocking enough to have raise a look of skepticism at him. She could smell a hint of alcohol on his breath as he moved past her, and her anger at him only increased. Drinking, in the middle of a school day? Lovely. Such an upstanding citizen to be drinking underage as a member of the (prestigious) football team. Every high school she'd attended had at least one case of alcohol-related deaths. The car crash in Philly and losing Cory impacted her worst. She didn't approve of drinking in excess and certainly not in the middle of the day. She could see this guy wrapping his car around a tree at some point in the near future. Death certainly did not make the list of her favorite things to see at a new school.

The tall football player had walked past her to sit with the bubbly ditzes who gushed over Tim Riggins only a few minutes earlier, exclaiming "Oh Tim!" when he sat down at their table. He glanced over towards Gwen once more but his gaze moved quickly back to the hand on his forearm and the batting eyelashes of the bouncy girl acting all familiar with him. So this cretin was their dreamy Mr. Tim Riggins? Classy. The blond leaning all over him tossed her hair around and laughed at something he said to her. At just that time a large muscled arm snaked around her shoulders. Gwen almost whirled with a left hook to the face of the guy who'd infringed on her space, but realized quickly that Smash somehow snuck his way over. He nudged her gently in the direction of a table towards the back corner.

"Just a little advice," he said in low tones as they walked towards the lunch table, "That guy you yelled at, Riggins, is an asshole. But you prolly shouldn'tve mentioned his mother." She walked past the different tables of people, sitting and eating. They seemed to have calmed down from watching the incident between her and Riggins but Gwen noticed the stares the other teenagers shot at her from weird angles, avoiding her own gaze. Smash continued his low-toned conversation as they approached the table. "I don't know what you think about Dillon but we ain't yo average little Southern town with perfect moral values and families and all that shit. Dillon's a real town with as many real problems as any other town. Don't go assumin' we got it good. Now let's get back to the important stuff like how many points the Smash will score tonight," he said in a louder voice, releasing his grip of her and sitting at the table. "You are coming to see the Smash play tonight. Seven o'clock at the field- but the Smash causes the stands to fill pretty quickly, so you might wanna get here earlier than that."

"Well, the Smash is gonna have one less fan cheering for him tonight," came the voice of Smash's girl as she rose from the table. "Good thing the new girl's a better replacement huh?" she grabbed her books angrily from the table and turned her back to Smash, getting up from the table and starting to walk to the cafeteria doors. Her hips swung angrily with purpose as she moved across the floor with decent speed. Gwen heard her voice crack as she said "replacement", choking with emotion. One minute the girl's defending her, the next she snaps into a jealous rage about her? This school just seemed to get weirder and weirder. Brian certainly seemed to know that Dillon certainly did not fit the stereotype of the typical southern school district.

"Waverly!" Smash called after her, quickly getting up from the table and half-jogging after her. "Waverly, hey baby why you gotta be like that? This is just how the Smash is, you know this!" Gwen could hear his protests fade into the distance as he disappeared after her through the doors out to the hallway. Smash and Waverly's other friends stared at her with suspicion and dislike. Gwen shook her head in frustration and slumped forward onto the table, hiding her head with her arms. Her curls spread everywhere. Texas Hell clearly would not get any easier. The sooner she left the better. 


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Notes: Thanks for the great comments everyone! I really appreciate the support!

Just a question, but do you guys get my replies to your comments? Just wondering.

Anyways, enjoy!

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Boop deep be doo!

Finally, finally, her first day at Dillon High ended with that annoying bell system which seemed to come straight out of the 1970s. The one thing she made sure to remember about this ridiculous high school was the location of the exit. She'd ditched Saracen, who'd shyly asked if she would attend the game tonight. She responded with an "I'll check my planner," gaining her a slight frown from the already pitiful QB1. Which only made her feel worse but she needed to get out of this town. If she could just fly back to LA every weekend she might just keep her sanity. The warm, dry Texas air hit her as she stepped out of the air conditioned school, the one decent thing about Dillon High. The sun shined brightly in the blue sky, only wisps of white clouds peeking between shimmering green leaves on the trees surrounding the lot. She'd parked her car in the lot in an end space and she fished out her keys to her deep emerald green BMW hard-top convertible that Daddy had bought for her as an eighteenth birthday present. He'd bought it partially because he wanted her forgiveness for the time he slept with one of her teachers and partially for his own satisfaction of getting rid of her white 1997 Jeep SUV which she'd bought with her money she'd earned from selling some of her paintings to a few restaurants around Seattle. He'd let her keep it for "snow conditions only" and chained it into the garage in the house in Colorado, essentially taking away the only thing she'd ever worked hard for. Still she knew that she was lucky to have a car at all and despite the implications of the gift she loved her car. Her car spelled freedom to some degree, which she valued more than anything.

As she walked down the row of cars she noticed a group of boys standing around her car ogling it. They circled the car as if they'd never seen one up close before, oohing and ahhing over it. Gwen bit the inside of her lip, bracing herself to deal with the boys who would probably ask her a million questions about it. She started to fish her keys out of her purse, rummaging around for them. Finally locating them beneath her blackberry and her glasses case, Gwen pulled them out and looked up just in time to see the boys reaching out to her door handle. A cringe formed on her face as she opened her mouth to yell but her reaction failed to be fast enough to stop the boy from pulling on her door handle a few times. While her Jeep would have no reaction, of course her BMW's sophisticated alarm system started shrieking. Gwen broke into a sprint towards her screaming car and the four boys with guilty looks on their faces.

"What do you think you're doing?!" she snapped at them, yelling very loudly over the alarm. She rushed towards her car, keys out and pushed aside the boy who'd pulled the handle. He stumbled before one of his buddies caught him by the arm. She slid the key in and unlocked, locked, and unlocked the car again. The alarm stopped its cycle of really loud noise. But they had caused the damage already. The whole school stared at her and her car, surrounded by idiot members of whatever sport the football rejects around here played because the football players actually seemed like smart guys- aside from maybe Riggins. Gwen turned to the guy who'd set her alarm off, ready to give him a piece of her mind. She pushed his shoulder, getting into his face ready to tear him apart when she saw Matt Saracen and the blond haired Julie rushing up to her. Matt pulled her off of the kid and Julie put her hand on his shoulder, moving him away from her. The guy had his hands up in the air, and tried to explain away his actions.

"Hey look you guys know I wasn't trying to do any harm- how was I supposed to know the car had an advanced alarm system? Julie, you know I ain't lyin' right? Hey look, I'm real sorry... Gwen, that's your name isn't it? Like I said, I'm real sorry, but no harm done, right?" She tried to glare at him over the shoulder of Matt Saracen, but his hands on her shoulders kept her in place, feet firmly planted on the ground. Despite his appearance, Matt commanded an intense amount of strength to her surprise. Gwen, resigned to the fact that she wouldn't win this battle, relaxed her muscles and looked resignedly at Matt, then at Julie, and finally at the guy who'd set her car off. She just needed to get out of there, quickly. All the energy had drained from her and she couldn't stand being anywhere near Dillon High any more that day.

"Look, fine, it was an accident, I get it. No harsh feelings alright? Now will you please let go of me Matt so I can get the hell out of here, please?" She wanted to kick herself for sounding so pathetic at the word "please", her voice wobbling as she struggled to maintain her self-control. Her last bit of dignity remained the sole survivor of her hellish first day here and she needed to hang onto it. Matt Saracen bit his lip and then let go of her, stepping away with a concerned, saddened look in his eyes. Julie looked like she wanted to say something to Gwen, but her open mouth couldn't find the words to say for once in her life. Gwen needed to get out of there, needed to find something that would make her feel normal.

Finally out of that ridiculous school, Gwen's thumb pushed the button for the roof and the mechanical whirring detached and unfolded the hard top of the convertible. The wind rippled through her hair as the breeze flew past her. She put the ball of her foot to the gas pedal and then shifted gears, flying along the streets of Dillon. Tears whipped from her eyes into the wind behind her, tracing a line from the corner of her eye back through the strands of her long hair. She threw in a mix CD, one burned for her by her boys in Seattle that they'd sent through the mail for her birthday- entitled "How Come We're So Alone?" after the Motion City Soundtrack song. Though the familiar caress of her leather seats relieved some of the tension in her neck, her mind had not settled down quite yet. The hard rock music began blasting, sound waves reverberating within her ribcage. Finally, finally she could settle down a bit, though she drove to a place she didn't think of as home. At least her father wouldn't be waiting when she got there. He always worked long after six. Sometimes he didn't come home and that suited her just fine.

After her drive sufficiently calmed her, Gwen drove up the long driveway towards their ridiculously stylized new home. She had no intention of leaving it for the entire weekend unless by some miracle she managed to get herself back to LA for good. Though she could easily take the family's private jet, she wouldn't jeopardize her chances of getting into a really good art school by skipping classes-- even if she did despise Dillon High. To her dismay, her father's silver Rolls sat in front of the garage. Her father's car never, ever in a million years rested in the driveway between 5am and 6pm except on holidays, few of which he observed. Today certainly was not a holiday, so why would he be home? Maybe something mechanical happened to it and he took one of his numerous other cars to work. Yes, that must've happened. Clearly he just didn't drive his Rolls today. Gwen knew she was just trying to deny the obvious.

After parking her convertible, she pulled up on the parking break which clicked into place and then took a deep breath. Her father, though careless and self-centered, knew when his daughter had a bad day. Somehow amidst the scurrying around to make phone calls and filling out paperwork he'd found the time to study her facial expressions even if he only half-listened to what she had to say. Gwen unlocked the front door with her key, turning hard in the padlock as she pushed inward on the heavy door. Dropping her bag by the hall end table to annoy the new housekeeper, Gwen glanced up at the sweeping staircase leading to the faux stucco floors and sighed. Why did her father want to be in a place with such a lack of sophistication? Gwen already decided that she would make her own home a little of every city she'd lived in. Not including Dillon. She would also make sure that the contractors completed the house before they moved in. Her father's people still had an entire wing to finish, closed off with makeshift construction doors. Indeed, her father clearly lacked tact and sophistication when it came to his private life.

Walking into the kitchen she found her father slicing tomatoes on the wooden block that sat upon the marble-topped island. Never in her life had she seen her father perform any domestic chore, let alone prepare his own food. Gwen cringed to think what he possibly could concoct in a mixing bowl and she agreed that she probably could not imagine what horrors her father could create. Gwen almost turned and left the room but her father saw her before she could even think to react and hide. Plus she hadn't found all the good hiding places here yet. Deciding to continue into the room as though she had not just thought of bolting for her "Twilight Chambers" as some dumb architect called them, Gwen walked past her father for the fridge. She swung open the door and started to look for an unopened bottle of Diet Coke that she could take back to her room with her when she heard the sound of the knife on the chopping board stop.

"What are you up to tonight sweetie?" he asked her as she shut the refrigerator door. He cleaned off the knife he used with a dishtowel and smiled at her. He didn't ask her how her day was, or what she thought of her classes, or how she liked Dillon High. No, he started off with asking her what she was up to that night, which clearly meant he had some sort of plan up his sleeve. Gwen needed to think fast. She could tell him she wanted to go to the football game and then drive off somewhere else. Anything but going on whatever father-daughter adventure he'd planned for them. He caused the horrible day she had by moving them here to bumpkin country instead of at least having the mercy to choose a suburb of a coastal city like usual. Needless to say, she didn't want to see him at all and she certainly didn't have the patience to 'hang out' with him that evening.

"Uh, I was thinking of going to the football game tonight seeing as it's the only thing anyone seems to do around here," she replied, twisting the plastic cap off of her bottle of soda releasing the excess carbon dioxide with a hiss. Gwen glanced at the clock as if she had someplace important to go and quickly. Besides, her father put on this horrible pouting face whenever she nixed any father-daughter plans he made and she hated feeling guilty about disappointing her dad for something like spending time with him. But she knew if she sucked it up and went out with him that night it'd just end in the two of them in a major argument. Wouldn't that be a perfect end to an absolutely perfect day? About to leave the room, her father managed to get in his reply.

"Great! I wanted to ask you if you'd present our check to the school. The school board called and wanted to tell the town at the football game about the money I'm donating to build a new high school. I thought it would be better if you presented the endowment." Her father crossed over to the exit of the kitchen, where she stood looking at him with a shocked expression. He leaned down to kiss her on the cheek. "Thanks honey, I knew I could count on you." Still with her jaw dropped, Gwen's father walked past her whistling and carrying the sandwich he'd finished putting together with him. She gaped at the kitchen sink, shocked by the exchange that just happened. If that wasn't a classic case of a plan backfiring, she didn't know what was. Still, it left her with no choice. Tonight, not only did she have to attend the football game, make her father happy, and present a large sum of money to an entire town, but she had to pretend to be one of them. Still wide-eyed, Gwen screwed the cap onto her soda and dropped to the kitchen floor in a sitting position. Go Panthers? 


	5. Chapter 5

Author's notes: Hey everyone, sorry for the delay! Unfortunately, my Pop-pop passed away two weeks ago and I haven't had much time to think about this next installment. Plus my "ex" wants me back after 6 months of not talking to me and I have to deal with that too. Gah.

Anyways, Gwen's first taste of Dillon Football. Enjoy!  
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Bright silvery lights stood on poles surrounding one of the most elaborate high school football fields Gwen ever saw. Over one hundred yards of flat, green grass with a smell hinting at the fact that someone recently chopped it all to equal lengths spread across her sightlines to the chain-linked fence. Sturdy metal stands towered ten feet above her head, already active with the excited buzzing of blue and gold clad fans. Judging from the amount of people already sitting or walking around socializing in the stands, Gwen thought that the entire town must've attended games, not just the teens of Dillon High and their parents and siblings. A short line formed at the concession stand where she could see Mrs. Taylor handing out hot dogs with a forced smile on her face. Gwen ignored the smell of barbeque and headed for the stands to find a place to hide out until she had to hideously embarrass herself in front of the whole town because her father felt like throwing some money around.

Murphy's Law stated that anything that could go wrong would go wrong. Gwen didn't believe that plain dumb luck caused things to go wrong. She did, however, take into account that people tended to do things wrong. Whether she would make a misstep or whether someone else would tonight she didn't know, but she had this internal feeling that something very wrong would happen. Call it intuition; call it paranoia, call it whatever, Gwen knew this night wouldn't end well. After all, hadn't everything else gone wrong that day? It couldn't get any worse. Her father could have decided to move them somewhere worse than Dillon like some podunk farming town in western Iowa that didn't have cable lines pre-installed along the streets or something. What, did companies think that farmers wouldn't have time to chat on the internet or catch a few episodes of The Sopranos or something? If she could manage to dig through her closet for blue and gold Panthers clothing and come up with something close enough, the cable companies could extend cable lines to rural areas.

Speaking of which, Gwen somehow pulled off looking school-spirit supporting like everyone else and defiant at the same time. She'd picked through most of her clothing and eventually decided on a form-fitting scoop neck tee shirt with long sleeves despite the warm, dry fall air. Alternating gray and blue horizontal stripes, the shirt seemed the only item of clothing in her closet that matched the Dillon school spirit squad's dress code. Gwen found a simple denim mini-skirt with an antique fade to almost match the gray stripes. She'd somehow managed to dig through her myriad stash of ribbons and find a strand suitable to pass as Dillon gold. With a pair of scissors she sliced the ribbon in two, braided her long dark hair into pigtail braids, and tied the ribbons around the ends of her hair. If you couldn't beat them, join them? On the other hand, it seemed that maybe giving a little on the fashion end of it would... Realizing how ridiculous she looked, Gwen pulled out the ribbons with disgust and fixed her once-braided hair with her ceramic flat iron. She traded her mini-skirt for a pair of dark wash jeans, tossing the skirt on her bed. There, she felt much better blending in without selling out. Dillon High would only get the blue of her stripes out of her, nothing more.

Part of her refused to let go of her stubborn streak. In no way did Gwen wish to stay in Dillon for her last year of high school. But her stubborn, defiant streak also caused her to have one of the worst days of her life and it still hadn't ended completely. Her choice of outfit that morning, she admitted, meant to draw attention more than reject it. Though plenty of people tried welcoming her, she rejected them, aside from Brian. What did Brian get from his kindness? Nothing but an angry girlfriend and an association with the rude new girl from LA who thought herself above everyone else. If Gwen wanted to get out of there, she would have to play the game, not make herself miserable. Rejecting life in Dillon like this would get her no pity from her father and only make her more upset. She needed to make life easier for herself so that she could work on her plan of escape in peace. So there she stood, at the edge of the Dillon High football field, watching the opponents of her new classmates stretch and warm up. All of the activity, all of the movements, the buzz of the crowd and even the field itself seemed charged with energy, much more so than on TV or any other football game she'd ever experienced in her life. If Gwen ever thought that someone had transported her to an alternate dimension, it would look just like this. The ultimate high school football field just outside of the perfect Hollywood high school where nothing actually existed as it appeared.

Before she could reach the stairs to the metal stands, the large hand of a big, boisterous, and loud man landed on her left shoulder, steering her towards the sideline. It seemed he had started a conversation with her several moments ago as she'd stared off into space, thinking about her plan to escape this little town in Texas. Her eyes focused on the massive hand, looking disdainfully at the overly confident man to which it belonged. Astonished that anyone had the audacity to lay a finger on her, Gwen walked with the man as he continued on with his one-sided conversation about what the Panthers meant to this school and this town and how generous her father's gift would be if it included funds for a new football stadium. She tuned him out. A man with this sort of clout could only have major involvement with whatever ceremony she needed to present the d--- check at. The man paraded her past the last minute preparations of the team's coaches and managers, failing to keep out of the way of more important business. Finally, the blowhard stopped in front of a man with dark hair, a blue Panthers hat and a blue Panthers windbreaker worn by all of the coaches.

"Well if it isn't the man there himself! Coach, if you'll take a couple of your busy minutes I'd like to introduce you to a very important young lady," the loudmouth said, addressing the man that stood in front of them. The man, whom she safely assumed coached the Dillon Panthers, looked as if he wanted to push the man with the grip on her shoulder out of the way so he could get on with his work. He then glanced at Gwen, giving her what almost appeared to possibly be a sympathetic look. Obviously, whoever loudmouth was, the coach knew that he had quite the annoying personality. He put his hand up to the man, trying to end his speech before it began. Somehow Gwen thought the simple gesture would in no way deter the man who currently held her captive.

"Look Buddy, I haven't got time to deal with this right now, I've got a football game to play," the coach said to him, looking pointedly at his... buddy? His mouth dropped open as if he had something else to say and he broke his gaze from "Buddy" to glance at her and then looked back at her captor. It looked like he wanted to save her from the clutches of this man but he seemed to not have adequate time to wrest her from his clutches. Regardless, this Buddy character didn't appear to have thrown in the towel just yet. He wanted to make his point, and Gwen certainly couldn't do anything about it.

"Coach Eric Taylor, it is my honor to introduce you to Gwendolyn Phillips, daughter of John Phillips of Philcom who just donated a generous sum of money to Dillon to open a new high school," he said, apparently ignoring everything Coach Taylor had said to him. Taylor? Would this man be the very blond and very friendly Mrs. Taylor's husband? Gwen blinked twice and then stuck out her hand. She shrugged off Buddy's grip on her shoulder gently and moved forward, offering her hand to the coach. If she could take control of the situation, maybe Coach Taylor could get back to his training and she could get this stupid announcement over with sooner, not to mention lose this Buddy guy who seemed to have a very persistent desire to run the show. The only way to shut him up, she assumed, was to take control from him.

"Hi, I'm Gwen," she said to Coach Taylor, making her tone pleasant but quick. "I met your wife this morning, she helped me find my first class. You'd better get back to warm-ups before Tim Riggins has a cow," Gwen said, smiling ever-so-sweetly at the Dillon Panthers' head coach. She tried her best to look innocent despite the clearly vicious statement about Tim Riggins, standing only a few feet away on the football field with one arm crossed in front of the other in a stretching position. He hadn't seemed to hear her comment, but the Coach sure had. Coach Taylor looked over at Riggins with a curious look and then back to her, shaking his head. Whether that meant that Tim Riggins had a reputation for being a jerk or something or if the coach just found it amusing that he'd left such a bad impression on her, she didn't know and didn't really care. Suddenly a grin spread across Coach Taylor's face.

"Now that'd be a sight to see," the Coach said, laughing. "My wife and my daughter Julie are sittin' over there if you need somewhere to watch the game," he said, pointing to the stands. "It was a pleasure to meet you," he said, and turned onto the field calling for a huddle before Buddy could stop him. He'd finally removed the hand from her shoulder and Gwen moved off towards the stands where the Taylors sat. QB1 dated the coach's daughter, not the head cheerleader. Interesting. She'd only walked a few feet before Buddy stopped her from going any farther by catching up to her left side and then standing in front of her. Out of the corner of her eye she could see a cheerleader with chestnut hair glaring at her. What, did the whole "rally squad" or whatever they called it around here hate her or something?

"Gwen you should go over to that microphone right over there. Someone will bring out that giant check your daddy had printed so you can present it to the school." Gwen swallowed, hard. She had to announce something to the whole town? Obviously, instead of maintaining a low profile Gwen would be the center of attention, at least until the game started. Blinking a few times she walked over to the microphone set up in the middle of the field. With a surge of confidence, she stepped up to it, ready to announce her father's "generous" donation, which probably had more to do with getting her to not cause trouble than genuine concern for the state of the school. She could sense other people walking up towards her and saw a large piece of cardboard in the corner of her right eye. Here went nothing, Gwen thought, as she prepared to try and win over the citizens of her new town.

"Hi everyone, I know you're all real anxious to get the game started, but we thought it would be a good idea to announce this now. For those of you who don't know, I'm Gwen Phillips, and I just moved here. My dad owns a company called Philcom, for those of you who don't know, and he's donating fifteen million dollars to build a new high school here in Dillon." Gwen stepped back from the microphone, staring at the large crowd in stunned silence or astonished whispers. She looked over to the person holding the check, and she took part of it from the woman. When she looked to her left, Gwen saw Coach Taylor standing there, along with Matt Saracen, Tim Riggins, and Brian. She led the other check holder over towards them, where the principal of the school intercepted the check. Someone prompted Gwen to shake hands with each of the school committee members, which she did. The crowd's whispers had grown to an excited hum. Gwen returned to the microphone.

"Hopefully, the new school will be in place by the end of the next school year, after the current juniors graduate. Anyways, we're all here to watch some football, right? So, uh, go Panthers!" she said, which evoked a loud cheer from the crowd, along with a large amount of applause. Gwen couldn't help but grin as they ushered her off the field. She glanced back at the field where the Coach and the football captains had gone to the middle of the field for the coin toss. Making her way up the metal stands, Gwen saw a wave from Julie Taylor, Matt's girlfriend and Coach and Mrs. Taylor's daughter, as she now knew. She walked over to sit with her and soon found herself followed by none other than Waverly, Brian's girlfriend. Gwen glanced back and blinked at her a few times but decided not to point out the fact that the girl had not only gotten extremely mad at her at lunch that day and threatened not to come. Gwen took a seat next to Julie with a small smile at her, and Waverly sat down next to her on her right. The other two girls exchanged greetings, but Gwen's green eyes had already locked onto the field. She had a game to watch. 


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Notes: Hey everyone, sorry to keep you all waiting- this one has been particularly difficult to write. Anyways, thanks for sticking with, and enjoy! The next chapter after this will be awesome!

Excitement crackled through the spectators as the brown football sailed through the air, the product of contact with the Dillon kicker's foot. Even Gwen had to admit that the athletic prowess of the boys appeared very impressive. The stands roared as the Dillon defense tackled the other team's receiver at the fifteen-yard line. Gwen stood with the other fans, cheering half-heartedly. She needed a major vacation from playing the cute new Dillon girl. Gwen's sharp eyes wandered around, observing the other people in the stands. Her eyes caught on a couple beneath the metal benches of the stands, intensely making out. Rolling her eyes at the juvenile actions below her- seriously, who made out underneath stands anymore?- Gwen turned back towards the game. At least on the field people yelled at them for doing something stupid.

Sitting down, she glanced to her left and to her right. On one side sat Waverly, and on the other sat Julie. What, would she have to start dating Riggins to make it a meeting of the future first wives' club? She could tell the other two girls didn't normally hang out with each other either. Both sat staring rather bored at the game. Whenever Coach Taylor looked back at the stands Julie suddenly looked alive, as if she wasn't bored to tears by the game. This went on for the entire first half, the only words coming out of their mouths consisting of "Yeah!" and chants of "Bull, bull." If Gwen liked football this game would have interested her immensely, with the Panthers and the other team going at it, matching each other point for point. At halftime, the cheerleaders took the center of the field, and Julie stood up from her seat on the metal benches.

"You wanna get something to drink at the concession stand? The cheerleaders' bad dance moves always get on my nerves after watching the halftime cheer seven times already," the young blond said, the question directed at her as much as Waverly. Gwen gave Julie a half smile and a nod, standing to join her. Pushing up her sleeves, Gwen looked around and stretched, standing up on her tip-toes and yawning. Gwen followed Julie down to the concession stand after Waverly had politely declined the offer. Walking carefully down the stairs of the stands, Gwen followed Julie to the line already forming in front of the concrete.

"So... you dance, I assume?" Gwen asked her as they stood in line for the concessions. A middle-aged woman walked by and waved at Julie like she looked like a little kid on display. Julie seemed to give her a big, fake smile before turning away with annoyance. The coach's daughter brushed her long golden blond hair behind her shoulders and blinked a few times, as if clearing a bad sight from her mind. She then turned to Gwen and responded, standing more to her side in the makeshift line than in front of her.

"Yeah I've been dancing for almost as long as I could walk," Julie said to her, with a legitimate smile. Gwen smiled back, to her own surprise, genuinely. Just as quickly as her lips had turned up, Gwen turned them down again into a serious expression. She wanted to get out of Dillon, not make friends. That said, despite dating the quarterback, Julie seemed one of the most normal people she'd met so far. They finally reached the front of the line when Gwen found herself face-to-face with the stupid kid who had set her car alarm off. Gwen's eyes turned icy as they walked up to the counter.

"Well uh hey there Julie our boy Matt's doin' pretty well out there isn't he?" the awkward boy said to her companion, looking down and up quickly, trying to avoid her staring gaze. He started to finish putting together an order for a hot dog with ketchup and looked back at Julie. "What can I get you, seeing as I've been roped into this indoctrination of running the concession stand like everyone else has," he said, the last line dead serious. Gwen's eyes studied him as if he'd picked up on her anti-societal thoughts, and realized that he himself actually meant that line. Apparently not everyone felt as sunny and cheery about Dillon as they all appeared to.

"Landry, you don't have to do the concession stand if you don't want to," Julie replied to him as her eyes gazed up at the red plastic letters detailing the price against the while background of the menu board. Her eyes drifted back down to him as if she'd decided what to order, then looked at Gwen and back towards Landry again uncomfortably. "Uh yeah so you guys have already met- Landry, Gwen, Gwen, Landry," she said, drumming her fingers nervously on the top of the counter. "I'll... just have a Coke, thanks," she said to him, gesturing to the drinks. Landry's eyes seemed to go wide at the gesture of Julie introducing him to Gwen, lower lip a little slack in a flabbergasted state. Gwen continued to stare at him with her piercing green eyes.

"Sure Julie, no problem," he said quickly, moving towards the soda fountain. "Look Gwen, no, hard feelings, right?" he asked, avoiding her gaze. "I mean, I just wanted to look at it... Guess I blew my chances at riding in it, huh?" He seemed to pause, gathering up his courage, before glancing at Gwen again, giving her a sheepish smile. Despite her automatic suspicion of nearly everyone she didn't know, Landry seemed genuinely sorry for his mistake of setting off her alarm. She had to remind herself that her car alarm going off only topped off a really bad day and hadn't made her that upset by herself. Gwen's eyes softened, and she returned his half-smile.

"Sure. No hard feelings. Would you get me a diet, please?" she asked, her answer short as if she didn't really care that he'd set her car alarm off. This simple gesture seemed to brighten Landry's entire face, and he worked more vigorously to fill their paper cups with the bubbly brown liquid. Gwen could smell the hotdogs cooking on the greasy rollers of the concession stand cooker and she swallowed as not to gag from it. The other people around them seemed to snatch their hot dogs away from the concrete box and chat excitedly with each other.

"Here you go ladies, that'll be five dollars total," Landry said, setting out their drinks. He seemed to gain a sort of simple charm that he'd previously lacked, and now actually looked at her instead of the painted counter beneath his fingertips. Gwen took the cool cup in her hand and left a few bills on the counter for her soda. Julie swiped her hair behind her right ear and smiled at Landry before grabbing her soda as well. The blond waved goodbye to Landry and the pair turned back to the stands, making their way back up the metal stairs and following the crowd.

After taking their seats again, the second half started. The game continued to be one exciting play after another, the Dillon Panthers starting to take more control over the game. Dillon's defense sacked the other team's quarterback once, which drew a loud cheer from the crowd. The electricity of the excitement of the game seemed to flow through the crowd, something unlike Gwen had ever experienced before in her life. Why football seemed so different here in Dillon, she couldn't quite discern.

Everyone stood excitedly, watching Smash move the football down the field at what seemed like superhuman speed. A loud cheer emanated from the crowd and Gwen exchanged high fives with Julie. Before turning back to Waverly, she caught Smash in her field of vision. He'd pointed towards the sky, and then pointed directly over to them. He must be pointing to Waverly, Gwen thought, studying Smash's touchdown ritual, which she had learned was something many receivers did in the NFL. Only Waverly stood with her hands midair, ready to high-five her. Smash probably could see that his girlfriend hadn't made eye contact with him. So, had Smash intended the touchdown for someone else?

Thinking quick, Gwen grabbed Waverly around the shoulders and pointed her body towards Smash's location. "Look Waverly," Gwen exclaimed with a girlish squeal to her voice, rolling her eyes inwardly at the dramatic deviation from her usual character, "Smash scored for you!" she finished. Waverly's shoulders, tense from the surprise of Gwen's actions, relaxed after a moment. Waverly raised her hand to blow a kiss to Smash and Gwen could see the big smile on the girl's face. She jumped up and down excitedly, waving her arms in the air.

"I love you baby!" she yelled loudly in an honored tone. Finally, finally she actually did something right at Dillon High. Maybe she had started to get the hang of this town. Maybe her perception simply clouded her judgment about an easy problem to solve. Gwen watched as Smash exaggerated catching the air kiss and brought it towards his heart. Regardless of whether he intended the touchdown for his girlfriend or someone else, Gwen knew she'd prevented another of Waverly's jealous meltdowns. Continuing to watch the game, only a few minutes of play later all of Dillon stood on their toes, watching as the other team made a last minute drive to score. It seemed the entire crowd held their breath as the Dillon defense leapt into the air to knock a scoring pass down, effectively ending the game as the clock ran out. The football players ran out to the middle of the field in a burst of gold and blue, taking off their helmets and jumping on their teammates in a big huddle. The energy seemed to flow like a wave through the crowd.

After the game they gathered in the parking lot to wait for the boys to come out of the locker room. As they walked out, gear in hands, and Julie ran up to Matt to give him a huge hug, jumping up and wrapping her arms around his neck. He blushed and wrapped his arms around her and she ran her fingers through his recently-showered hair. Waverly had found Smash and Gwen watched as she planted a big kiss on his lips. She just stood there with her hands in her back pockets as she watched the others swarm around, uncomfortably watching the celebration foray. Smash hooked his arm around Waverly and walked over to where she stood.

"The Smash for one is ready to celebrate the win. This crazy-ass party at your big huge mansion sounds like the event of the century," he said, addressing her. What was that? Crazy-ass party at HER mansion? When did that happen? Her confusion must've showed clearly on her face because Smash seemed to pause, taking a minute out of his adrenaline high to realize Gwen didn't seem know what he was talking about. She didn't speak and just stood there, looking at him like he had three heads.

"Your dad stopped by to give the team a pep talk and invited everyone over for a party after the game," he explained, as if trying to remind her failed memory or something. "Did he not tell you?" Smash asked, a line of concern forming on his forehead. Gwen's jaw dropped a bit, trying to process the information and her fists curled involuntarily out of anger at her father. What did he think he would make friends for her? Hadn't she done just fine over the past fifteen years of her life at that? Then just as suddenly she smiled and grinned at him.

"Oh no, sorry I must be a little out of it. See you there," Gwen said, and left to get into her car. She really hoped the town of Dillon would trash her father's precious mansion so they would have to move. Livid, Gwen put the pedal to the metal and sped off towards her house. 


	7. Chapter 7

Author's notes: Just wanted to mention that none of what went on in the season premiere will be taken into account in my fic. It's in a very set time period at the end of last season and will keep those profiles together. Don't think that the progression that happens through Season 2 will factor in here. My fic follows canon up until the end of Season 1, and then I'm allowed to diverge; besides, Gwen's a senior so she wouldn't be around in Season 2. Everything seems pretty messed up in Dillon Texas right now anyways; I prefer the first season. I mean, come on, the whole thing with Landry? Completely out of character, I'd say. Also, I swear I thought Riggins was a senior. Whatevs. Enjoy the party at Gwen's house; hopefully it's better than the one that was on the first episode this season.

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The minute she pushed open the door to her father's new mansion that he wanted her to call home, Gwen found herself hard-pressed to find a spot on the floor not covered by blue, gold and white confetti, a spot on the ceiling not threaded by blue, gold and white streamers. Panther-colored balloons covered the walls. Apparently Daddy had really meant it when he'd decide to throw a party for his precious daughter and her new friends. Sound waves of a thumping base hit her ears and she knew that her father must've set the house mainframe to play music everywhere in the house, all set to the same radio station playing some Friday night mix. Gwen wondered if he'd tried and failed to get a DJ but realized that her father would accept nothing less than what he wanted so obviously the music didn't matter that much to him. As she took a left into the kitchen she snatched her bag from the hallway floor; the staff must've missed it when they set things up. She didn't need anyone stealing her wallet or her sketchbooks.

She walked into the informal dining area before the kitchen to find it full of food, the table covered with all sorts of finger food of every type imaginable. Here she was, rushing home to set up this party and her father had actually figured all this out. Maybe he wanted to bribe her into applying to business schools. Her father had lined up a dozen or so silver kegs along the back wall, a sight she freely glared at. What, did he want her classmates to kill themselves or something? If he'd really ever been involved in her life maybe he would have flown home from Seattle that week that Cory died instead of dealing with meetings all week.

Tucking her purse under her arm, Gwen walked over to the island in the middle of her kitchen. Her father had left her laptop out, chained to the island by a laptop lock through the ridiculous steel loop he had installed in the marble countertop. Her index finger brushed lightly over the mouse pad of her black and silver XPS computer; the screen popped up to reveal one of her father's now-infamous notes. Gwen's green eyes scanned the black words on the screen, taking in every letter.

"Gwen honey, have fun tonight, don't worry about partying too hard. Love Dad." Gwen's green eyes scanned the black letters furiously, angry that her father could even think that she would want to party with people she just met, especially in the fashion he intended. She glared at the note before she opened up her mail editor and started typing furiously, hopping up and taking a seat on the stool. Gwen needed a little time to get her anger out before the bell rang at her door. Typing her friend Grayson from Seattle's e-mail address, Gwen's fingers flew furiously over the keys, click-clacking out an e-mail. Her eyes glazed over as they focused not on the screen but on the words as they appeared in her head. A loud ringing, similar to a gong, however, alerted her to the fact that people had probably started to arrive. Her head rose slowly from the screen where she hit the 'send' button quickly and logged off before attacking the laptop lock with the key from her key ring. Sliding the slim machine off the table, she tucked the gently whirring computer beneath the shoulder opposite her purse. With a sigh, she headed towards the front door, where she figured she should start collecting keys.

Gwen could hear the music blaring through her empty house as she walked through the mess of confetti towards the door. The reverberations of the million-dollar sound system her father had installed rivaled that of Les Deux and that took some serious skill to create. Her father must've gone through some trouble to set up the whole thing- or he just dropped a lot of money on the party. She should have guessed. Daddy had just decided to go on another of his lovely campaign kicks to win her favor by spending ridiculous amounts of money on things that he thinks will make her happy. With all of his business knowledge she would think that maybe a little more time into research and development might yield a better result- a better relationship with her.

By the time she reached the door however, she found a tall, beefy looking man already opening it. He'd dressed in a nice black suit and had a curly white cord over his right ear. Gwen stopped and made one look at him. She knew her father must've hired him as a bouncer. Despite her father's clear extravagance, at least the bouncer solved one of her problems. She strode purposefully toward him, knowing full-well her father could have already given him explicit orders not to listen to her. Gwen had gotten used to dealing with stubborn help.

"I need you to make sure that everyone has their keys taken away as they enter the building. I don't want anyone driving home under the influence. If they insist on leaving, call them a cab or see if our chauffeur is still on duty and give them a receipt for their keys," Gwen spoke, standing directly in front of the security guard before he could open the door. He'd looked down at her and stared for a minute as if trying to recollect who she might be, and then grunted an 'affirmative' reply. Poised for an argument, Gwen had practically stood on her toes before she found that he had indeed agreed to her terms. At least she wouldn't have to deal with arguing with the security guard that night, and she knew that he would take everyone's keys. Security guards usually kept their words about safety issues on the job- some part of their elite-service's code of integrity or something. Gwen stepped back to the side as he opened the door, pressing down on the brass handle and swinging the large wooden door open wide. 

She found herself staring right at Matt, Julie, and Landry, the first to arrive. Obviously, QB1 didn't catch the concept of fashionably late. The grim look on her face quickly spread into a falsely happy smile, not discernable from her true one. Her genuine smile seemed a rarity at Dillon High anyways, so she doubted they'd detect the difference. The bouncer stopped them from entering and asked them for their keys. Matt and Julie stepped aside at the threshold as Landry folded his arms over his chest, defensive as ever.

"Sir, I respectfully decline giving up my keys," he started, looking over the bouncer's large shoulders to Gwen, searching for some help, "I would prefer not to." The bouncer stood in front of him, six feet, five inches tall and two hundred eighty pounds of pure muscle. Despite Landry's clear attempt at staring down the bouncer, the burly man made no move to allow him through. Gwen stuck her hands in her pockets and rocked back and forth on her toes, hoping that Landry would just give up his keys without a fight. If even the nerdy kid wouldn't give up his keys, what would the football players be thinking when the bouncer asked them for their keys?

"Landry, just give him your keys. I'm not letting anyone drive home tonight," she said, her voice over the shoulder of the bouncer catching the attention of Landry but not even earning a glance from the bouncer. "I won't have it. My dad bought enough beer to get twenty elephants trashed. No one is driving home tonight intoxicated," she said, completely serious, meaning business. Gwen would never joke about alcohol, especially after Cory. She watched Landry's face fall as she spoke and all of a sudden she grinned. "But if you're lucky maybe I'll drive you home in that BMW you admire so much." Landry, at her words, had his jaw fall open. He seemed to numbly place his keys in the hands of the bouncer and the mountain of a man moved aside to let him through. The poor guy didn't seem to want to cause any harm, and Gwen had always valued good intentions.

"I think my dad has an X-box 360 set up on the projector screen of the movie room, you guys are welcome to go check it out," Gwen mentioned, gesturing down the hall. She really needed to go change clothes anyways. It felt like a black hoodie night. As she ascended the stairs she could see Landry's googly eyed stare down the hallway. Snapping out of it, his face seemed to light up and she could hear a faint "Race ya!" as she disappeared down the corridor to her rooms. Finally reaching her rooms, Gwen shut the giant wooden doors behind her and leaned against them, hugging her laptop to her body and shutting her eyes. She knew something bad would happen that night and now she feared the worst. Her father left her with no choice; instead of shutting herself up in her room, she would have to regulate the party on her own. God forbid someone try leaving the party with alcohol in their system that night. Sighing loudly, Gwen placed her laptop gently on her starry-canopied bed and pulled her shirt over her head, tossing it into a corner of the room. She did what she could to annoy the help, and her father.

Sliding back the white wooden doors to her closet, Gwen raked through the clothing until her hand fell on her black hoodie- actually, Grayson's black hoodie. She still couldn't believe he'd parted with it when she left Seattle for LA. Unzipping it gently, carefully as if the hoodie were one of her most delicate possessions, she removed the garment from its hanger and slid the warm fleece over her bare arms. She zipped it up halfway, still showing a bit of her gray racer-back top underneath. Looking at herself in the mirror, Gwen resisted pulling the protective hood over her head. She had to think strong, firm, and in charge, though she supposed the hood could invoke ideas of the grim reaper. Pausing with her hand on the door handle, Gwen braced herself to enter the chaos that ensued downstairs.

As she made her way down the stairs, her ears listened carefully not to the blasting music but the noise of voices and movement. She figured that she could stand guard all night at the door, but that's what dear old Dad hired bouncers for. Gwen wound her way around the corridors, making sure to remember just what direction she came from in case she needed to make a quick and easy escape. Her eyes barely glanced at the decorations on the wall as she made her way towards the source of the loud noise. She reached the doors to the North wing, one she thought her father hadn't opened yet. Inside she found a huge dance club, designed to look like one straight out of LA. She barely stepped inside the threshold of the doors when she heard a loud voice over the music.

"Hey hey hey, who liked that touchdown the Smash scored today?" Gwen heard the booming football player's voice stemming from the middle of the dance floor, rocking back and forth to the music with a blue Solo cup in one hand and the other appearing to conduct the music on the radio or... coming from the DJ booth her father had created. She didn't even know this wing was finished, let alone that she had an entire ballroom in the house. The whole situation freaked her out more than a little. Opening an entire wing just for her party? Gwen still didn't understand why her dad had chosen Dillon Texas in the first place. Uncomfortably, Gwen slid the cuffs of her black hoodie's sleeves over her hands, bunching the extra fabric in her hands. Grayse wouldn't believe the quality of the lighting system her father had installed. The red, gold, and green lights flashed by pinks, purples, and blues, filling the room with brilliant splashes of bright light.

Her eyes shifted to find some rally girl sitting on Tim Riggin's lap in the corner. She counted about ten other similar couples around the dance floor, scattered and as diversified as Dillon High got in terms of social scenes. Most of the people, however, crowded the dance floor. Gwen stuffed her hands in the pockets of her hoodie as she watched the movements and gyrations of her new classmates, blue Solo cups sloshing the amber-colored liquid onto the floor. The crowd had roared in response to Smash's exclamation in the middle of the floor and his big grin spread from ear to ear. Brian looked around, acknowledging people here and there, until he pointed to Gwen. He pushed his way through the crowd, making his way towards her.

"You, the Smash, dance floor, right now," he said, holding his hand out to her in a mock gentlemanly bow. His eyes had locked onto her, and despite her resistance to the entire party, his enthusiasm felt infectious. Besides, wouldn't she observe more in the middle of the dance floor than standing outside it? Taking his outstretched hand with a small smile, Gwen allowed Smash to take her hand over his shoulder and lead her out onto the dance floor. She couldn't spot Waverly anywhere in the room as Brian pulled her gently to the middle of the crowd and pulled her hips closer to his own. He moved with the loud, upbeat hip-hop music, even singing along with the music at times. She followed his movements, showing off her own ability to move her hips well. At the change of tempo in the music, Smash took her hand, spun her around in front of him, and then pulled her towards him so they were face to face. His forehead hovered dangerously close to her own, and she could detect a hint of alcohol on his breath, though not enough to constitute him being drunk. About to move away, or do something to get out of the situation, a commotion sounded from the corner.

"What the hell was that for?!" Tim Riggins had exclaimed, the big muscular football player towering over the others and swaying on his feet, one hand clasped to his face where it appeared that the rally girl once sitting on his lap had slapped him. Gwen had taken the opportunity to pull away from Smash though he still maintained contact with a gentle hand on her wrist. The girl had stormed off, presumably to another part of the giant mansion to get away from big bad Tim Riggins. Though she could give him a piece of her mind for doing something stupid enough to cause the girl to slap him, she didn't want to cause more trouble than it was worth. Gwen began to turn back towards Smash to ask him a question when Tim slurred out "I'm outta here." If she hadn't listened really hard, she wouldn't have caught the mumbled words. Her green eyes grew livid and furious as Tim headed for the foyer. She pulled away from Brian only to discover that he still had a grip on her arm and wouldn't let go.

"Brian. Let me go. I need to stop him, and I don't care how burly and tough he is. I'll still do it," she said with a firm voice. His warm, thick fingers gently unwrapped from her arm and Gwen made her way as fast as she could through the crowd back towards the foyer, trying to stop the ever-illustrious Tim Riggins from messing up his life. If she knew anything, and she claimed to know very few things, Tim Riggins could fall next on the list of people lost at all of her high schools. Gwen had to figure out some way, any way, to stop him, regardless of the consequences. 


	8. Chapter 8

Author's notes: Hey everyone, sorry this has taken forever. I lost my inspiration for a little while, partially from the whole arc with Landry and Tyra and partially from my dad having major surgery and whatnot. Yeah so anyways, crits and comments are welcome as always. Hope you enjoy, and thanks for waiting! .

Her eyes had caught the silver of his keys as he'd pulled them out of the pocket of his baggy jeans. Had she not seen the flash of color reflected off them in the dance hall, she would have left him to his own devices. Wandering around drunk and driving home drunk signified two different things. Gwen thought he probably wandered home from parties all the time completely inebriated. But no one would walk away from her house and get into a car tonight unless someone sober drove. Wincing as she heard the crash and shattering of some breakable item down the hallway, Gwen picked up her speed as she followed the drunken Tim Riggins' erratic sprint through the halls of her father's new mansion. Even with her track team experience, Gwen couldn't keep up with dodging Tim's wild movements through the hall, knocking over one precious breakable after another. Oh Daddy would pay for those items, and he couldn't dare blame her because the stupid party came from his messed up head, not hers. She felt like a preschool teacher chasing a four year old who snatched a pair of scissors from her desk and wouldn't stop running with them. If she didn't stop him he could hurt, kill or maim himself or someone else. She swore to herself at Cory's funeral that she would never again allow someone to die from her own concerns about her reputation. Tim Riggins wouldn't screw over all she had in her life that didn't have to change; throughout her friends and homes and schools she always maintained the promises she had made to herself. Not letting someone die again on her watch represented the most important of those promises to her, a tribute she made at Cory's graveside.

"Tim, if you don't stop now I swear I'll kick your ass so bad you won't be able to down a beer for a week!" she screamed after him, shoving aside a shocked Landry who had appeared from a hallway to see just what the noise signified. Her hand pushed hard against the fabric of his worn t-shirt over his chest, pressing lean muscle and sending his body against the wall with a thud. But Gwen didn't glance back at Landry at all, her focus still on Tim who had gotten towards the staircase in the hallway. Her green eyes locked on the back of his head as he stumbled over the gaudy staircase and onto the faux adobe flooring. Seeing her chance, Gwen paused and made a sprint for it, her muscles springing against the ground. The bottoms of her black Pumas bounced rhythmically, quickening as she approached Tim still fumbling with the ground. Without any fear she kicked her legs out from under her, sliding down on the ground past him with a perfect softball slide, snatching the keys from his hand.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she pushed up from the floor and made a bolt for the kitchen. She felt the muscles tighten in her legs as she took one stumbling step after another towards the doors of the kitchen, finally stepping through the doorway. Pausing for a second, she looked right and left at the carnage that her father had called their new eating space, beer and solo cups and napkins and chicken bones scattered everywhere. Frantically she moved towards the island in the center of the floor, hoping that she'd accidentally left her cell phone there when she felt a hand grab her clumsily around the waist, a thickly muscled arm pressing against her belly button. Her feet lifted off the ground and she involuntarily kicked at the air and the legs behind her, though they felt like steel poles against the heels of her feet. Resisting the urge to scream, Gwen soon realized that the hand groping down her left arm for the keys belonged to none other than Tim. With a fierce expression spreading across her face, Gwen dropped a hard chop onto Tim's wrist, freeing herself from his grasp. 'Judo chop', she thought to herself of the move her friend Reed had taught her, refraining from the laughter that usually accompanied the blow. Shooting forward against the counter in front of the sink, it only took a second for an idea to dawn on her. Glancing at the gleaming metal once, Gwen turned so her back pressed against the rounded edge of the marble countertop surrounding the steel.

"Give it up Tim, or I drop them," she said, her death glare eyes boring into his like laser cutters into diamonds. The malice practically dripped from her voice. They said that alcohol dampened higher brain functions. If true, Gwen suspected the animal in Tim would probably run away from her strong, threatening voice. She forgot, however, her sixth grade science, and the fact that alcohol hardly turned people into animals. Instead of producing the desired effect of him giving up or running off, he moved closer, his hazel eyes trained on her own. For a second, she almost flinched and brought her arm in front of her, but instead she dropped the keys down the drain. He lurched forward, pressing into her and she grabbed his arm before he could reach into the drain. Gwen struggled, pushing her body weight against the counter as she shoved back at him with all her might. Her left arm reached out behind her and flicked the switch for the drain, and her eyes flashed back towards the hole in the bottom of the stainless steel metal. Gwen shoved Tim to her right, who'd become shocked by the sparks and awful noise emanating from the device. She shoved herself in his direction, flicking the switch with her arm and hitting her left bicep against the edge of the counter as she fell downwards towards Tim. He'd landed on his backside and she fell face first onto his chest as a few chunks of plastic flew above her head, one landing in the center of the wooden shelves on the other side of the kitchen, piercing it.

Gwen landed with her head on Tim Riggin's chest, her nose and lips against the muscular yet somewhat soft surface. The top of her hoodie had fallen over her long dark hair, which dropped over her face. Pushing down on both arms she tried to lift herself off the floor, but a sharp pain ran up her left arm and she fell back onto Tim Riggins. Underneath her head she could feel his chest start wiggling, and a hearty laugh came from his mouth, the vocal expression echoing through his ribcage. Gwen looked up towards him, her hazel eyes meeting his own and she noticed a sparkle in them. She couldn't help but feel a smile spread across her face as the fight from the adrenaline seeped out of her blood stream. Her own eyes sparkled as she turned her head sideward to look at the shelf, her head resting on her left cheek against Tim's sternum. Somehow she couldn't help but start laughing herself.

"That was bold," he said in awe, emphasis on the bold through his laughter. He shifted upwards, sliding his upper back up against the oven door. Gwen rolled over on her good arm, pulling herself back and leaning up against the oven door, positioning herself like him. He pointed at her and then pointed to the piece of plastic that had gotten stuck in the wooden shelf holding her father's copper pots that they'd probably never use. Some young flirty interior designer had probably decided to put them there for show. Still, the marred wood would make her laugh whenever she'd see it. Perhaps she'd leave the piece of plastic there as a reminder. Looking back over at Tim, she saw that he had looked over at her, his eyes still sparkling with amusement.

"You could've gotten us killed, the way that thing was flying," he said, his voice in a bit of awe. "Owe me a new set of keys, Gwen. After I wake up," he said, and his head slumped over onto her shoulder. Gwen stared down at him amazed. The big lug had passed out after all that. For a minute she looked down and the emotion welled up in her, the pain in her heart from the hole left by her lost friend. Her hurt arm reached out and her fingers wavered over Tim's hair, wanting to smooth it out of his face. It only took a couple of seconds to realize how drained she felt, and she dropped the hand from his face and gently pushed him over the other way, leaning against the cabinets on the other side. Gwen stood up, a little dizzily, but a bittersweet smile formed across her face as she looked down at the sleeping form of the football player that didn't seem so bad after all, only troubled.

_Didn't let you down this time, did I Core?_ she thought to herself as she tried to grab a few of the red Solo cups strewn about the floor in her kitchen. Her kitchen. Dad had meant this place as home, so maybe, just maybe she'd finally have a true house to think of when she wanted to mention home. Somehow she doubted that though. Gwen stuffed the cups in an already overflowing black trash bag and made her way to the hallway, back towards the club room. Most people had settled down somewhere, passed out or sleeping. Julie had her head on Matt's shoulder, his head nuzzled into her long blond hair. Smash had claimed one of the round swinging chairs her father had installed to emulate the ones the dancers in the clubs used, slumped in the half-moon shape. The DJ that her father hired had started to pack up the music, putting his records and laptop away, and he packed up the electronics he had used to connect to her father's expensive sound system. He walked up to her and stopped, hooking the strap of his laptop bag back over his shoulder.

"Nice party," he said in a low tone, so not to wake any of her sleeping classmates. Gwen found the statement ironic; the party in no way could be described as nice. In some ways she still saw red about the situation in general. But she bit the inside of her lip, attempting not to say anything mean about it to the DJ. Instead, she gave him her polite smile, the one she reserved for teachers, or the help. Pulling her long brown hair from her ponytail, Gwen shook her hair over her shoulders and nodded to him, as if in agreement with the statement. She in fact would never, ever host a party of the sort ever again. Actually, all she really wanted to do at the moment involved curling herself up in bed- her old one in LA, or Seattle, or Philly, or anywhere but there.

"Yeah. My dad sure knows how to make a girl happy," she said, not able to control the sarcasm oozing from her lips. Turning, she made her way down the hall again, towards her stupidly named rooms. Although she didn't think of the space as hers yet, at least it technically did belong to her. Fishing the key out from the pocket of her hoodie, Gwen unlocked the doors to her chambers and entered. Immediately she began removing her clothing, unbuttoning her pants and dropping them to the floor. She shrugged off Grayse's hoodie, placing it gently on the bed before starting to peel off her racer back top. Digging her old t-shirt from the Creston Academy track squad, the one they'd all ran on back when Cory could still light up any room, Gwen pulled the shirt over her head, followed by the track shorts they'd all worn. Taking the hoodie from her bed, she slid it back over her arms and sat down on the bed, drawing her knees to her chin. Her eyes looked around at the unfamiliar surroundings, and she felt an overwhelming rush of loneliness fall over her. Teardrops fell from her hazel eyes as she brought her forehead down onto the tops of her kneecaps. Dillon, Texas couldn't compare to the idea of home she had in her heart. No, home for Gwen came from periods of time, and she couldn't ever go back. With a groan, Gwen slid herself under the satin sheets, resolved to at least make the room likeable in the morning, rather than just another bribe from her father. Finally, finally, her mind began to switch off and she faded into the darkness of dreamless sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

OOC Notes: I know, I know, it's been a long time since I've updated, but besides losing interest in the second season I've also barely had time to recover from all the bad stuff that's happened over the past two years with my 40 hours a week summer job and going to the gym and whatever else goes on in my overly busy life. I apologize greatly to everyone who's been waiting and I also want to thank anyone who still comes back to read my story; it means a lot to me that people can read and enjoy my story!

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With a vengeance Gwen woke to the tiny beam of sunlight falling over her face through a crack in the shades over the windows in the east-facing wall. Groaning she rolled over pulling Grayson's hoodie tighter around her body. Feeling the soft gray cotton from her track t-shirt around her torso reminded her of the night before, drawing her out of a groggy state of half-sleep and back into the harsh reality of her "twilight chambers" in Dillon, Texas. Moaning in annoyance, Gwen kicked the covers off of her body with her long legs and swung them over the side of the bed. Her bare feet met the plush carpeting of her new bedroom and she pushed her weight forward to stand up in the room. Not bothering to put shoes or any other sorts of clothing on, she opened the doors to her bedroom harshly and made her way to the stairs. Lazily she dropped each of her long legs down heavily, one crossing over the other, and reached the landing of the tiled floor. With a glare already plastered on her face, Gwen burst into the dining area attached to the kitchen with her mouth open, ready to say something to her father. Instead, she abruptly shut it, and looked surprised at the two men sitting at her kitchen table.

Before her sat her father, grinning and shoveling a forkful of something that looked like an omelet in his mouth. Her eyes followed his laughing gaze to the other person sitting at their table. Tim Riggins sat to her father's right, grinning and pointing at her father, in the middle of a manly exchange of companionship. What kind of alternate dimension had the Matrix thrown her into? Standing in the archway of the wood floored eating area, Gwen couldn't help but just stare slack-jawed for a moment at the scene in front of her, completely floored at the fact that not only had her father actually invited one of her supposed friends to stay, but that he had actually spoken to him and had a conversation. Her father looked up at her and smiled, grinning his bizarrely jovial grin.

"Morning Sunshine!" he said, his strangely enthusiastic voice greeting her as she ignored the two men looking at her at the table. All of a sudden her tiny track shorts felt extremely inadequate as she saw Tim Riggins' eyes follow the curve of her leg. She quickly walked to the fridge so her bare legs would be hidden from view by the kitchen island. As she rummaged through the refrigerator for a honeydew melon and some strawberries. It took a second to realize that the usual cook who made all of their food hadn't cooked a thing that morning; she hadn't had to elbow anyone out of the way as she pulled her fruit from the fridge. No getting yelled at for making her own food, just her father eating what looked like his sad attempt at making food. Her father being home on weekends without working seemed weird enough, but now he'd gotten rid of the help as well? Not that she was complaining about being allowed to do something herself for once, but her father had been acting very strange ever since he came up with the silly idea to move to Dillon Texas.

"Did you enjoy the party last night?" he asked, still digging at his pseudo-breakfast which she thought couldn't be edible. Since when could her father cook anyways? She'd chosen to ignore his question, biting the inside of her lip to avoid snapping and responding, but she didn't have to worry.

"I had a great time," Tim Riggins had responded with a politeness that she'd thought someone like him incapable of. She ignored the conversation and instead started to pull open drawers, brushing her long auburn hair from her face as she slid the wooden boxes open and close, long fingers digging through the large amounts of Tupperware and cutlery that the professional chefs had stuck in there before they'd even arrived. A simple steak knife would have worked nicely, but no such thing as simple existed in this sort of kitchen.

"Dad, seriously, where are the knives?" she said, looking up at him and hoping he wouldn't call her Ms. Grumpy Face in front of Tim Riggins. The jerk would certainly use something like that against her. She really couldn't help being annoyed with him that morning after the ridiculous situation that he put her in the night before. Really, sometimes she thought she had a much higher degree of maturity than her father.

"I'll help," Riggins piped up, pushing back his chair before her father could say anything. "Least I can do as your guest here." Looking far more humble than she'd ever seen him, he walked up towards her and stopped a mere half-inch in front of her before turning in the opposite direction to that which she faced, reaching past her to pull open a drawer which held none other than steak knives on the first try. He picked one up and held it out to her, handle first. Reaching up to the back of her head, Gwen shook out the back of her hair through her fingers and took it from him.

"Thanks."

"You still owe me keys," he said, in a lower voice so her father couldn't hear. She could still feel his hot breath dangerously close to her person, so she stepped back, holding the knife out in front of her though aimed at the fruit on the island.

"Yeah. I know. We'll take care of it after I'm awake," she grumbled in her annoyed voice, moving to peel the rind off of the honeydew melon. Her father had remembered enough to get the non-fat organic yogurt she liked; her eye had caught the bright green label in the fridge as she'd grabbed the fruit. She hadn't planned on running that morning, so the fruit and yogurt would suffice for a breakfast. Even if she had wanted to go work out, it appeared she was stuck with Riggins for the rest of the day. What, had he actually slept on her kitchen floor all night? Maybe the cleaning staff had woken him up and offered him a room; Gwen knew that her father hadn't cleaned up this giant mess himself and none of the junk lay around the house anymore. That seemed the more likely case.

As Gwen began to chop up the pieces of fruit, she lifted her head to see the strangest look from her father, as if he was trying hard not to grin at the exchange between her and the obviously popular football player. He'd always told her he wanted grandchildren; perhaps the move to Dillon was to engineer himself some perfect grandchildren to take over his empire? Now that he'd finished with building it, she thought it quite possible that he was looking for her to find a nice quiet niche in the world where she could settle down and get married so that he could have a grandkid while still young enough to teach them the ropes. Clearly, he'd just given up on her being his successor. That had to be it. Gwen's eyes narrowed into a harsh glare and she went back to the refrigerator as Tim walked back to his seat to continue wolfing down bacon. Talk about gross.

Her ears perked up as she heard a muffled digital song somewhere nearby; vaguely she remembered securing her purse in a cabinet in her rush to keep her personal items from destruction by this wild party. Gwen knelt down in a rush, head looking downwards as she moved in that low position from cabinet to cabinet trying to remember just where she put her purse. What was her ringtone this week anyways? The Higher? Sherwood? No, it might've been Motion City Soundtrack's The Future Freaks Me Out. A few more notes confirmed the song as she opened the cabinet and managed to snatch the phone from her purse just as it went to voicemail. "1 missed call" her Blackberry's screen read. Ignoring the conversation of her father and the football player in the background, she was immediately informed that Grayson had indeed just called her.

"Thank God for small favors," she muttered as she snatched up the phone, leaving her breakfast on the island as she heard her father call something unintelligible behind her. Gwen's thumb pressed the redial button as she raised the Smartphone to her right ear, waiting for the highly advanced phone that her father insisted on buying her struggle to do the most basic of tasks. Ring, ring, ring... then a deep male voice answered.

"Could your dad have picked a town further from civilization? I thought Seattle was rural compared to L.A., but now it makes me think that _I'm_ the urbanite. An Applebee's was the only thing I recognized around this place. I figured I'd find someplace civilized and stay put. I'm surprised it's even open at 11 A.M." Gwen held out the phone and looked at it, wondering just what she just heard. An Applebee's? What in the hell was he talking about?

"Grayse? Grayse, where are you? What are you talking about?" she replied after a moment of trying to figure out what was going on. She likely had the most confused face on the planet at the moment, but she couldn't see it in the mirrored dish cabinet across from her.

"I thought you needed some saving. So get your cross-country ass into that ridiculously expensive car of yours and come get me." Speechless, Gwen's jaw hung open, heart racing in her chest. What was he doing there anyways? She could just imagine the Dillonites staring at her friend's eyebrow and lip piercings, eyeing the outsider nervously with his obviously rebellious black band t-shirt and ripped jeans she could see him wearing in her head at that very moment. He'd have shed the hoodie at the airport once hitting the hot Texas air. She could just see him, sitting in the two-toned leather booth, staring at a menu full of things he didn't eat with a big grin on his face as he talked to her on his hand-me-down cell phone.

"How did you get the money to come down here? How many times have I told you not to spend money on me?" she asked him, after the disbelief started to fade away, eyes glancing back towards the clock her father had put on the wall. She could see the eyes of her father on her Blackberry, an annoyed look on his face, and the eyes of Tim Riggins on her backside. Still, she couldn't help the smile she felt creep up on her lips.

"Know what? Never mind. I'll be there soon. Hang tight Grayse, looks like you're the one that needs saving." With that she hung up, shoving the Blackberry into her purse on the island counter. Shoving a handful of cantaloupe in her mouth, Gwen rushed back to her room and pulled a pair of gray Bermuda shorts and a baby pink tank top on. Tying her long hair back into a ponytail with a pink ribbon, Gwen rushed out and headed for the door before she stopped short, staring at Tim Riggins staring back at her, leaning up against the front door.

"Are we gonna reverse that little chase scene from last night or are you gonna take me to get new keys? I gotta get home with my truck," he said, reaching up with his large arm to push his long brown hair from his face. He'd shoved one hand in his left pocket and had his shoulder up against the front door. She knew if she could barely beat him in a race when he was trashed, she wouldn't ever beat him in a fair race sober. Plus, she did owe him a pair of keys.

"Alright let's go then. Can't leave if you're up against the door," she replied. He stepped aside, holding his arms out towards the door for her, grabbing the handle and pulling it open. Gwen glared at him, thinking that he probably wanted to make fun of her and her big mansion and her rich father but he just smiled politely at her and followed her out the door. She didn't think his eyes would still be on her body as she walked purposefully, almost giddily to the car, unlocking it and getting into the slick machine. Her best friend in the whole world had just flown over a thousand miles to see her, and for once she was grateful for the speed that the convertible afforded her.

"So, uh, where's the Applebee's anyways?" she asked, starting the car and turning over her shoulder to drive it out of the long driveway. Somehow, the white knight scenario seemed less appealing with the dark one riding next to her.


	10. Chapter 10

"Your ride is amazing," Tim Riggins' voice called to her from the passenger's seat of her convertible, the wind whipping through her hair and his as she drove along the sun-bleached highway

Author's Notes: Yay, new chapter!! Less waiting for this one than the last. Yes, shameless plug in there for my friend JD's band. Check them out on Myspace if you get a chance, I don't think they're on iTunes.

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"Your ride is amazing," Tim Riggins' voice called to her from the passenger's seat of her convertible, the wind whipping through her hair and his as she drove along the sun-bleached highway. She could barely make out the solid yellow line dividing the road and wondered just how long ago they'd paved the road originally. Not that she really thought of the road a highway after driving on the four-laners in L.A or anything. Right now they drove on a cow path in comparison, but it was still technically considered a highway so... whatever. Glancing over she could see the wind pulling at his thick chestnut locks, and the pink ribbon in her hair flew across her cheek as she turned her head to look at him. Her eyes quickly snapped back to the long road ahead of her, steadying the convertible's steering wheel in her hands.

"It's not my choice of car. But it runs well," she called back to him, eyes locked on the road once again. How much further to the Applebee's anyways? She needed to get to Grayse before some football player or something worse in this town got to him. Like Buddy Garrity. Gwen could just imagine it now, her best friend in the entire world sitting there in his big black oversized hoodie, with his black hair spiked up dangerously high, picking at some crusted stain on his Legend of the Fall t-shirt, ignoring the fact that Buddy Garrity had sat down across from him and asked him just what the ridiculous logo stood for, in slightly more tactful words. Not looking up from his shirt, Grayse would probably mumble something about it being the National Association for Chicken Wrestling when in actuality it was an indie rock band from Northern Jersey. Then Buddy would attempt to get him to join the Dillon Football team, trying to reform her 'delinquent' best friend. He would have no idea that Grayson was actually a National Merit Scholar and had no reason to play organized sports. While she wasn't afraid of Buddy Garrity hurting Grayson's feelings or anything, she was afraid that Grayse's temper might get the worst of him and he'd end up causing a scene that the whole tiny network of Dillon would hear about. The scene where the goth girl's punk friend was picking on poor Buddy Garrity would spread in a matter of minutes. Dillon was so small that they didn't even need Gossip Girl down here.

"Not your choice of ride? Come on. You're loaded. What, Daddy wouldn't buy you a Lamborghini so you had to settle for the next best thing?" He looked at her like she had said the most horribly selfish statement on the face of the planet. Which, if she didn't know that she had meant that she wanted her own car, probably would have sounded pretty horrible to her too. Sometimes she forgot that she was in fact a rich girl, despite hating every minute of it. Others would kill for her life and yet she wanted to give it away. In that way, yes, she supposed she was a little ungrateful.

"My choice would be a very specific 1998 Jeep Wrangler that I worked my ass off for, but Daddy decided that the 'piece of junk' had no business being his daughter's car. I appreciate having a car, particularly one as expensive as this, but it's not mine, you know? I didn't mean to sound spoiled from it. I still use the car because I recognize its value to others. If I really wanted to be snobby, I'd refuse to drive it," she said, tapping the bottom of her right wrist on top of the steering wheel while her left hand held it steady.

"I'd take the BMW in a second," Tim replied, his muscled arm resting on the side of the car. He had leaned back in the leather seat, looking out at the side of the road with the wind still whipping at his hair. His body language seemed serene, as if the contoured leather seat was the most comfortable thing he'd felt in his life. If she thought that _she_ tried to appreciate it... well, she might have correctly assumed that Tim had never experienced luxury; rather, what she liked to call her father's extravagance. She sensed that their conversation for the moment had ended and felt content to continue driving with the Texas sun beating down over the length of her already tan arms.

Up ahead down the road she saw a rusty red pickup pulled over on the side towards the ditch, a figure standing next to it. Tim turned to look at her and immediately spoke.

"Pull over," he demanded, in a no-nonsense tone.

"Why would I want to do that?" Gwen replied, glaring at him. The outline of the red truck approached them pretty fast, and she could see now that a woman leaned over the hood of the car, her back to them. Turning her head she shot Tim a death glare that could have burned straight through him, her lips pursed tight together in a frown.

"Because you threw my keys down a garbage disposal and a friend of mine needs help," he said, gesturing to the side of the road. With a groan she pulled up in front of the truck, throwing the BMW into park and removing her keys from the ignition. Tim had already leapt out of her car, stepping on her leather seats in the process. She made a mental note to put AAA on speed dial in case something like this happened again. Gwen pulled the keys from the ignition and shut her door, walking back to the beaten up truck, where a blonde-haired girl was leaning against the front bumper, arm out in front of her and yelling at him.

"... need your charity Tim; you never gave a shit when we dated. I can take care of myself. If you just left me alone I'd get the damn thing started again," the blonde turned towards Gwen as she walked around to the back of the truck, pulling the pink ribbon from her hair. Slapping the ribbon against Tim's chest, Gwen stepped up on the front bumper of the truck, getting a better look inside the hood of the car. Tim fumbled around with the satiny ribbon before getting a hold on it.

"Hey, what do you think you're doing? I don't need charity from Tim's new rich floozy, honey he's just going to up and leave you anyways," the girl said, turning and grabbing Gwen's arm with surprising strength. Ignoring her, Gwen continued to follow the inner workings of the truck with her eyes. The faster she got them out of this mess the faster she would get to see Grayson. Besides, she'd been called worse than a floozy in her lifetime; though she thought the part about being Tim's was rather insulting. Reaching into her pocket she threw the keys at Riggins, gesturing to her car.

"Tim, trunk, black box," she said, glad that she had her long chestnut hair in a ponytail at the moment. Tim gave her a mock salute before handing the ribbon to the blonde and ran over to the car, pulling the black box out of the back of the trunk. He lifted it out like it weighed less than a pillow and brought it over to her, standing there like he expected her to do something.

"Well, don't just stand there, give me the kit," she said, looking at him impatiently.

"You think you're going to fix a truck all by yourself?" he asked, looking at her incredulously. Frustrated, Gwen growled under her breath at him and grabbed the tools from his hands, opening the box herself. Tim crossed his arms over his chest, smiling like he was holding back laughter. Gwen reached in and pulled out a wrench, then leaned into the hood of the car and started to go at things, tightening a fuel valve and reattaching a loose hose.

"You just ignore him honey, he's a chauvinist," the blonde said, turning to glare at Tim. "That's right sweetheart, keep trying to figure out what that big word means. Too many syllables for you, huh Riggins?" The blonde leaned over the truck's hood with her with her face shadowed by the top it. "My name's Tyra. You're not really doin' the dance with him, are you?"

"Name's Gwen, and no, we're not 'involved', and you can thank me later. It's a mess; the fuel lines are worn out and that's going to get dangerous on you real fast. When you get a chance, bring it in and replace them, if you don't want to disappear in a bright orange fireball. Should work fine now," she said, putting the wrench back in her case and closing it. Grayse had worked in the auto mechanics shop up in Seattle; he taught her everything she knew about cars. She turned on her heel and walked towards her car, pulling her big sunglasses from her pocket. Sliding them on her face, she tilted them down her nose and looked pointedly at Tim.

"Good Samaritan deed done Tim, can we go now? My friend from Seattle doesn't know your ways around here. We should find him before he pisses off some of your friends." Climbing in her convertible she pulled out her keys and turned it on, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel.

"Keep the ribbon," Tim said, brushing his long hair from his face and sprinting to the car, once again bypassing the door to land in his seat. Gwen glared at him but put her foot to the pedal, taking off on the gray expanse of road once again on their trip to the only recognizable chain place in the whole town. She could already tell it was going to be a long weekend. With one hand she switched on her radio, thankful that she had snatched the satellite radio receiver from Daddy before leaving. No country music for her down here. Grayson would have a cow if he had to drive down here with only a radio.

"What? The ribbon made you look stupid anyways," he replied, shrugging his shoulders defensively as she drove on. "Where'd you learn to fix cars, Rich Girl?" he asked, studying her as if he just saw her in a whole new light. Despite the teasing name at the end, he had awe in his voice, probably encouraged by the red pickup truck she could see in the rearview mirror of the convertible. Her thumb pushed the seek button on the radio, searching for a satellite indie rock station.

"Who is probably more appropriate. Same person we're going to go see, Musclehead," she said, challenging him with her eyes to get angry at the statement. Instead, he curiously started laughing at her, which caused her to start laughing hysterically.

"You're not so bad, Tim Riggins," she said after she'd calmed down a bit, a bit of a grin left on her face. They had started to pass civilization in the center of town as they were laughing, or what passed as civilization down here anyways.

"Turn, now," Tim said, and Gwen looked up to see the Applebee's fast approaching. She practically pulled a ninety-degree turn into the restaurant's parking lot, slowing her speed dramatically and pulling into a space. Gwen shut the roof and raised the windows, pulling the keys from the ignition again.

"Nice driving, Princess."

"Nice navigating, Cowboy."


	11. Chapter 11

Author's Note: Happy New Year! I usually pride myself on keeping the characters strictly true to how they act in the show, but I may have mixed in a little Gambit charm for our dear old Tim. Hope y'all enjoy it!

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When she stopped the car and removed the keys from the ignition, Gwen practically leapt out of the car, bypassing the door. Behind her she reached out with her right wrist bent, pressing a button on her key ring that locked the doors and raised the roof of her convertible. Tim had managed to get out just in time to not get stuck inside a boiling car with leather seats in this hot October sun. He shot her an unappreciative glare from behind that Gwen saw in his reflection in the restaurant windows, but she chose to ignore it. Her favorite person in the entire world had traveled thousands of miles just to see her and she only had eyes for him.

"Well I've got some business to take care of," Tim said, gesturing to the pool tables set up in the restaurant. "Come get me when you're finished. You still owe me a set of car keys, darlin'." Business indeed, if Tim Riggins' idea of business included illegal gambling. She supposed that money was tight for him with the broken down truck he drove. Gwen didn't respond though. She only had eyes for the once-familiar boy sitting at a booth over in the corner, some red-headed poptart blabbering on about something while his eyes searched the room, presumably for her.

Even from the door she had spotted him immediately even if he didn't notice her, looking no worse for wear despite the radical changes in his appearance. His hair had changed to a sandy brown hair growing too long for his forehead and tossed to one side, showing his brilliant blue eyes that she loved so dearly. Clearly it had to be his natural color due to the length of his hair; vaguely she recalled him mention being on an environmental kick. That stemmed the beating that had intensified in her heart, a relief to know that the drastic change in his appearance had a legitimate, Grayson-like reason. Chemicals from hair dye and hair wax going down the drain wouldn't be his style if he'd committed to being an environmentalist.

"Hi, you big dummy, you didn't have to fly all the way out here to just see me! You didn't get too bored waiting around here did you?" The sound of her voice across the room caused him to look up and grin, finally spotting her. He stood from his seat in the booth and held his arms out to her. Nearly jumping into his arms she wrapped hers around his neck, snuggling right into place on his shoulder. She could feel his arms wrap around her torso, holding tightly around the smallest part of her waist. The warmth from his body reminded her that yes, he was really there and she wasn't just dreaming at all.

"Nah, not at all. Abbie and I have just been, uh, 'observing' the locals. Take for one the old fat guy at the bar, tossing back fingers of whiskey at this time in the morning," he said pulling back, pointing to the large guy sitting at the bar who just happened to be... yup, Buddy Garrity. She wasn't too surprised considering she imagined him being in the scenario, but really, he made far less of a villain or a potential victim sitting there by his lonesome trying to drown away the rest of the world. Gwen refocused her attention on Grayson. Abbie? Who was Abbie, the red-head? If he'd just met her, then wouldn't he not call her by her nickname?

"Abbie?" she echoed, not entirely too sure to whom Grayson referred to. The puzzled look on her face must've told him that she had no idea what he was talking about. He had a bit of a sheepish, guilty look on his face, not one he'd have about some random girl that had decided to sit down and talk to him. Raising an eyebrow at him she looked over at the red head, who'd moved to stand up from the booth. Only she wasn't walking away. No... she was slipping her arm in through his, leaning her head against his shoulder, giving her a smug grin.

"She's why I needed to come here; I wanted to tell you first. Abbie and I are engaged, and I was hoping you'd be in the wedding." The realization hit her like a ton of bricks. Married? Grayson? To a girl he'd never even mentioned before? A delirious feeling she'd gotten when she'd hugged him now did a one eighty. His words hit her like a ton of bricks. Had she really been so foolish to think that maybe he still loved her the way she loved him?

"Oh, uh, congratulations," she stammered, not really sure what to say. Luckily, she didn't have to worry too much. A strong arm had snaked around her waist, resting there comfortably. Looking to her right, she saw that Tim had decided to play knight in shining armor, or something. His hazel eyes gazed down at her adoringly, making sure to stop on every inch of her curves, not unlike before. Only this time, she felt a tingle up her spine, as compared to the creepy-crawlers she felt before. Why was he bothering to do this? Well, whatever the reason, she was certainly glad to have the response to Grayson's betrayal at her side, ready to play with her hair and do other boyfriendly things.

"Hi sexy, want to introduce me to your friends?" She felt his lips kiss her cheek, his long hair brushing her skin. His hazel eyes had broken from her quickly, like he'd forgotten that she was speaking to people in front of her for a second. Damn he was good. She'd played a decent amount of roles in her life, but never as falsely as Tim. A couple minutes ago he was annoyed with her for tossing his keys down the drain and almost locking him in the car, and now all of a sudden he seemed like he had fallen madly, head over heels for her. From what she'd gathered, Tim wasn't the falling in love type.

"I thought you were playing pool with your friend honey?" she asked him, keeping with the act. Grinning up at him, she snuggled in closer to him. If he could act like he didn't hate her, well she could do it too. She gave him her most adoring look ever, pretending that he and not the monster in the grips of the harpy in front of her occupied the center of her heart. She squeezed his hand tighter and leaned her head into his shoulder, content to be Tim Riggins' girlfriend for the time being.

"Nah, Saracen couldn't make it. Thought I'd walk over and join my favorite new girl," he said, a brilliant white smile flashing to his features. Reaching over seamlessly, Tim managed to lace his long thick fingers through hers, rubbing his thumb gently over the side of hers. The attention to detail made her think that he either had a really good grasp on the situation, or he'd just been at the whole "make girls fall in love with me" thing for far too long. But if he tried any funny stuff she was planning on kicking him in the balls. Gwen didn't return regular favors with sexual ones, regardless of how big of a favor it was.

"You mean your only girl?" she asked, a flirtatious smile spreading across her lips as she said the words. Damn he was good at acting. She could see the distaste on Grayson's face, the near-disgust he had in his eyes. Good, well he hadn't given all control from his brain to his dick. She was certain now that the hair color hadn't come from his environmental stance but the bimbo on his arm. While she was still in Seattle he wouldn't have given a girl like this a second look. In fact she was exactly what he'd hated back then, the product of popular society created by corporate millionaires. What had happened to her Grayson over the past couple of years... well, it certainly hadn't shown in his e-mails.

"Can I speak to you? Outside?" Grayson asked her, trying to catch her eyes from the gooey stare she'd put on, for his... well, benefit she supposed, though she didn't think so much that it was a benefit for him as compared to a benefit for her. Gwen looked up at him as if being interrupted from a book, allowing her eyes to clear for a second. She tilted her head as if surprised, and then gently unwrapped Tim's fingers from hers. Gwen simply nodded to Grayson, not allowing her face to reveal anything, and looked instead back to Tim.

"I'll be right back Tim. By the way, Abigail, Tim, Tim, Abigail. I'm sure you can find something to talk about." Gwen stretched up and kissed him on his scruffy cheek before turning on her heel to follow Grayson out of the glass doors of the restaurant. She spied Tyra as she walked past, dressed in her uniform. The blonde gave her a questioning look and she shook her head, as if to explain that she barely knew what was going on herself. As she stepped out in the Texas afternoon sun, she almost wished she were back up north, in Boston, where it was the other way around. Honestly, she wasn't sure if she could handle the external heat already on top of the burning in her chest, and her cheeks, and her throat as she tried to keep from crying now that she was outside and away from the safety of Tim's charade.

"Gwen, you're not okay with this, I can tell. I'm your best friend. I was hoping that you'd moved on too in LA, and all you can come up with is this blockhead football player you met a few days ago? I know this is a surprise, that you're upset, but you have to move on. Seattle is years behind us," he said, stuffing his hands in his pocket. No, Seattle was what she clinged to every night, that gave her a sense of home in Grayson's track hoodie. It reminded her of him, of the good times they'd had together, and of the fact that she'd somehow managed to get him to use his talents at running in something constructive instead of something like shoplifting. Though now she realized that she hadn't changed his mindset; no, her only accomplishment had been to get him to be complacent to her wishes. She doubted he'd even stayed on the team as he'd claimed after she left.

"Did you really come all the way here to Texas just to insult me? And FYI Grayse, never liked you that way. Thought the whole thing was as much of a joke as you did. And you have no right to talk about Tim that way. I may have only known him a few days, but I like him a lot. More than I've ever liked anyone that way. And sorry, I've got way too much on my plate to make your teenaged wedding," she said bitingly, even though she could feel her heart pounding in her chest, her brain screaming at her for the lies. Her pulse raced through the veins in her wrist and she could hear her blood rushing in her ears. It was the least she could do to retain the stony face, stony stance and not fall to the ground crying.

"What's happened to you? You've been gone for four days and already you're a Texas bitch? Or had L.A. really changed you and I just didn't see it?" he asked her, shaking his head angrily. Gwen didn't care what he thought of her though. She just stood, looking expressionless at him. Had she really become so hardened that she couldn't feel anything? No, she could feel it alright, storing up in the pit of her stomach. But she couldn't show him, couldn't reveal everything to him as she had over the years. Sighing in frustration, Grayson shook his head and headed back inside at a quickened pace, and Gwen followed him in, walking much slower and calmly.

"Come on Abs, we should probably get going." he said as they returned, grabbing the red head's hand with some urgency. "Grab your purse." The redhead with the tiny pink tank top and obviously lacy push-up bra seemed dumbfounded, surprised almost, and quickly wiped the grin she'd had on her face from talking to Tim off of it. Good job Tim, way to expose that slut for what she really was. Gwen wrapped herself around Tim in a way not unlike Abigail had done to Grayson only, what, minutes before? It felt like an eternity.

"It was so nice to meet you," Gwen drawled in her sugar-coated voice. "So nice. Tim, you wanna stay and get something to eat?" She pushed Tim gently into the booth with a grin, and rested her head on his shoulder. Her own hazel eyes looked up at Grayson once more, and waved to him, with the most steel-like look in her eyes. That was the only real emotion she'd shown to him this whole time, the hurt in her eyes, the anger she felt for him springing this on her. She had still hoped that there was some time for them, some way for them. But clearly fate had other ideas in mind.

"Why'd you do it?" she asked him in a low voice as her eyes followed Grayson out of the door, his hand still in the redhead's, never looking back. She however, glanced back with a death stare at Gwen and she just winked back at her with a big grin. "Y'all have a nice trip back now, ya hear?" she said, calling after the red head who turned around quickly, surprised that Gwen had caught her looking. Turning her head back to Tim, she looked at his hazel eyes that were really close to her own.

"Had to return the favor. You fixed my ex-girlfriend's car for no reason at all. I don't like owing people," he said, leaning his head back against the booth. "Besides, can't hurt to be friends with the richest girl in town if I ever need a place to crash," he said, nudging her, though she gathered that he was joking. Well, he'd already slept over her house once, and her father seemed to like him. Couldn't hurt if he wanted to hide out in that damned mansion with her again. Gwen ran her fingers through her hair and returned her head to his shoulder, not wanting to move or do anything for the rest of her natural life.

"Tim?" she asked as he started to shift, keeping her head on his shoulder. She knew he wanted to move, but she didn't want him to, not just yet. Her eyes closed as she swallowed, both literally and metaphorically, her pride. Though she never liked to show signs of weakness, never liked to give in to her own emotions, sometimes it just came out of her mouth before she could stop it.

"Do you think you could not move for a second? It would be nice to pretend for a few minutes longer that you actually love me and that my life means something more than just becoming the cog in the corporate machine I'm expected to be. Please," she said, her voice cracking for a minute. Under her head she could feel him settle, his shoulder slipping back into place. Then she felt the unexpected when he reached up to tousle her hair, affectionately. Gwen could feel the hot tears already filling the rims of her eyelids start to spill over, streaming down her cheeks through the corners of her shut lids, and for a few minutes she pretended that Tim Riggins could fill the place that Grayson had held in her overactive imagination so long.

"I'm worthless you know. All this money, and utterly worthless. I don't have a soul on this planet that actually cares- I move around so much that I never build meaningful relationships, my father doesn't give a shit about who I am only what I am, and the one person I thought actually cared just told me that he's getting married to a girl he never even mentioned before, so he obviously doesn't care. What place in this world is there for someone who no one cares about?"

"Shhh... Right here darlin', with all the other misfits," he replied, and leaned into her, resting the side of his jaw on the top of her head, like a protective big brother, or how she'd imagined one would act. "Welcome home."


	12. Chapter 12

Author's Notes: Aren't we lucky that I managed to get a burst of inspiration during this hectic-ness! I have finally introduced most of the main characters, and it seems that Gwen's not a big fan of one of them. Go figure. Just as a point, remember that it's fall of 2007, during the first season, hence the iPhone and Nip/Tuck references. All GG references are from the book series, as I believe the TV show wasn't around back then. Anyways, I hope you all enjoy, and crits and comments are welcome as always!

I . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - I

Somehow she'd managed to survive the weekend without gouging her eyeballs out or looking at Grayson's MySpace profile in self-pity. Sure, yeah, the way she'd reacted was a little immature but really, could anyone blame her? Her best friend, yes, she'd admit it, the guy she was in love with had not only a. gotten into a relationship with someone else, b. not told her about this relationship and c. worst of all, decided to blast the news all at once in her face that he hadn't told her that he was engaged to the girl he hadn't told her he was dating by showing up without telling her! A fair warning might've been nice. While she hadn't gone off the deep end, being alone with her thoughts for the rest of the weekend with her father, who had chosen that of all weekends to stay home and watch every football game broadcast in a marathon, all weekend long, was enough to drive her near crazy. She really just couldn't get a break could she?

Gwen hadn't seen anyone from Dillon until she'd stepped into school that morning. After finally getting Tim his spare key and driving him to get the old one replaced, Gwen had locked herself up in one of the random sitting rooms that her dad had built in every corner of the mansion, or so she'd guessed, trying to distract herself with a marathon of episodes of Nip/Tuck. They'd just released season 4, and she hadn't gotten to watch it before. It reminded her of L.A. and how her friends out there would have dragged her through a day of shopping therapy and ice cream had she been there instead of Dillon, Texas. When she walked into school Monday morning, it still felt like she was in some bad '80s high school-themed movie and she was the misfit character.

Lunch rolled around, and Gwen frankly wasn't too keen on heading into the cafeteria. After all, the last time she'd been there, she'd run face first into Tim and gotten berated by Waverly and Waverly's friends. Thankfully she hadn't run into the girl at all that day; even though she seemed fine at the game on Friday, she didn't really know how this whole "game day" deal went and it could have just been the atmosphere and not Waverly forgiving her. Besides, she didn't want to run into Brian either. The fact that he'd almost kissed her at the party was another complication she just didn't need at the moment. Dealing with AP Statistics put enough on her plate for the moment. Seriously, math wasn't her strong suit.

But this time when she got into the cafeteria, instead of getting the "oh my God look at the new girl!" looks, the stares going her way had turned almost to... contempt? What did she do this time? Aside from throw that big party that she didn't even throw or want in the first place, she hadn't done anything all weekend. Then she realized what must've transpired amongst the small-town Dillon gossip network. The stares from the girls, and a handful of guys, held hatred, jealousy. Most of the other guys had their eyes trained up and down her body. Someone must've spread the rumor of her and Tim at Applebee's around or something. She thought that JuicyCampus only existed at certain universities, not small-town Texas high schools. Had someone started reading Gossip Girl around here? Did the gaggle of giggling girly-girls read in general?

"We all know he's just dating that new girl look-alike wannabe because she looks like Lyla Garrity," one squeaky voice exclaimed, leaning over the table to grab a potato chip from one of the other girls. Gwen looked and glared at them, popping out her left hip, opposite from the hand which held her dangling lunch bag. Wannabe? Who was that hussy and why did she think that Gwen wanted to be whatever her definition of "cool" was? Her livid green-hazel eyes immediately began looking around the room for an empty table she could pull her iPhone out and check on flights to L.A. While she knew that flying out during a school week wouldn't help her chances of getting into any prestigious design schools, she could at least book one for the weekend. Maybe Friday night to avoid the stupid football crowd.

From over across the room the blonde-haired girl whose car she'd helped fixed was watching her, unbeknownst to Gwen. As her eyes scanned the room Tyra had already started to make her way over. She turned to face her direction just as Tyra had latched onto her arm, pulling her over to the side of the room. Gwen had to blink a couple times as Tyra dragged her down to a quiet table on the side of the room, where Saracen, Julie, and the kid who set off her car alarm sat. Gwen glanced at him with an involuntary glare, and he winced.

"I don't owe anyone favors. Just makin' that clear. Riggins actually does somethin' nice for someone for once and people just think he's bein' his normal sleazy self, never mind think about poor Gwen here. Oh honey, I'm sorry, you ain't helpless or anything," Tyra started to say to the group as she sat down two seats in, gesturing for Gwen to sit down. She paused for a second, looking at Julie and Saracen before deciding she didn't have anywhere better to sit. Sinking down onto the hard plastic seat, she put her bag on the table and started to dig out her lunch. Guessing it wasn't a good idea to pull out her iPhone around these kids as it was likely that they couldn't afford to get one of the ridiculously expensive, somewhat rare at the moment phones, she left it in her purse as an escape for her later Politics in the Caribbean during the 1960s class. Thanks, Dad, she thought silently, wondering what had possessed him to make her take such an oddly specific and incredibly boring class.

"Whatever. Let them talk. I don't really care. I don't believe in stereotypes anyways," she said, pulling out the salad she'd made last night. Gwen started to pull out the dressing she'd packed with it and realized she'd forgotten a fork and a napkin. Glancing down at her purple leather tote, she realized that she didn't trust these people nearly enough to leave her expensive items on the side of a table where anyone could come by and swipe them. Not that she was trying to be rude or anything but she figured there were a few kids who would risk picking it up off the ground even in front of QB1 to make an extra buck. Snatching up her purse she muttered that she'd be right back and moved towards the area that they kept all of the condiments.

Reaching the area with the condiments and silverware, Gwen walked right up and started grabbing a bunch of the light brown paper thin napkins from a plastic dispenser. A girl had stopped to her right, holding a tray, and had started tapping her foot on the tiled floor. Looking to her right she saw a girl with almost a mirror image of her hair, but a much different look from her. She had begun to roll her eyes, but seemingly caught herself and gestured to Gwen herself.

"Uhm, there is a line," she said, gesturing in almost a sheepish manner to the people behind her. "I think we would all appreciate it if you followed school rules and waited your turn like everyone else." There was just something about her tone that the girl couldn't quite hide, a wolf in sheep's clothing sort of deal. Gwen already didn't like her. There were a few ways to play it. Either she could absolutely berate the girl in front of her friends and the whole school, she could play it sugary-sweet and nice just like the girl was, or she could just ignore the girl and walk back to where she was sitting. While she didn't really feel like starting something, she also didn't particularly like the whole play it off deal that day in particular.

"Oh wow, I'm so sorry! I'm new here and I didn't realize the line extended this far! I didn't know I had to go all the way through the line just to grab napkins from the very end. Next time, I'll totally remember, thanks!" Gwen flashed the girl the widest grin she could make herself do and walked off, turning on the heels of her wedge heeled brown leather boots and going back towards Tyra's table. Pretty good for her own reputation that she was sitting with QB1 and QB1's girlfriend. As she walked away, she thought she heard the girls in line behind little miss Queen Bee gasping at her response.

"Ooh, someone's out to get you Lyla," the voice said and Gwen rolled her eyes at it. So that was the infamous Lyla Garrity, who Tim wanted to date, apparently? She couldn't imagine why, if solely from the fact that her father had to be the insufferable Buddy Garrity. That snotty little cheerleader didn't look a thing like her anyways. Tim hadn't seemed like he was after her at all anyways; he'd just seemed concerned for her having to deal with getting something horrible sprung on her out in public in a new town where words spread faster than wildfire. But she supposed that Tyra probably had reason to suppose that Tim had ulterior motives. Gwen knew that she'd have to watch her back in the future.

Sitting down at the table with Tyra and Julie and Saracen and the annoying kid, Gwen said nothing as Tyra looked at her expectantly. Gwen shrugged her shoulders and rolled her eyes. What did she need to have to do with the Queen of the school anyways? She didn't need to be pissing off the Blair Waldorf of Dillon High. No, no sir, her first day at school had been bad enough. She was determined her second day wouldn't be. Gwen half-glanced back towards where the head cheerleader had been standing, and found that she was relieved to see that the girl had left. The staring posse wasn't going to help the whole "she's with Tim Riggins" rumor.

"Gwen Gwen Gwen, tell me you ain't hangin' out with Riggins. You, the Smash, sodas after practice," Smash said as he passed their table, lunch tray in hand. He reached out to man-handshake Matt Saracen, throwing in a head nod and a "'Sup QB One?" over the head of Julie.

"Oh erm, uh, nothing," Saracen replied before Gwen could get a word in edgewise. She shot Smash a nasty glare, about to open her mouth to come back with something about Waverly, but Tyra looked at her, shaking her head. Smash had already moved on, and a comeback at that point was futile.

"What is this, see which football player can bed the new girl first?" Tyra speculated, hands in the air. Gwen gritted her teeth and started to put together her lunch, looking down at the table. If this was some kind of football player bet... well, they had another thing coming. Gwen Phillips was a force to be reckoned with.


	13. Chapter 13

Oh, my goodness. Talk about continuity mistakes. I used to wonder why it happened to the Marvel guys and now I'm amazed they don't have more. Gwen, in fact, now has an iPhone and a Blackberry, a flip open Blackberry. That should cover her phone discrepancies. I've really got to keep up on what I wrote previously. As always, apologies for the delay and the short installment, but it felt right to end this segment there.

*-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-*

Sodas after practice? What exactly did that mean? Gwen pondered this last question throughout most of the rest of the day. What did Smash want with her, really? She had even more of a sour look on her face than usual during the rest of her classes, ignoring more of what the teachers said than usual. Did they really have such little exposure to outside people that it was like dating their sisters? No, she thought, no place could be that bad. Besides, maybe they all didn't want to date her. Maybe they all just wanted to get out of there as much as she did. Maybe they saw her as a glimmer of hope.

Or it could be the money, she mused as she walked down the hallway. For years she had been adamant about not being overt about her financial situation, rarely inviting people to her house unless they had already established themselves as friends or clearly had just as much as her father did. Having money gave people preconceived notions, and Gwen wanted her own life, her own reputation, her own destiny. Yet here, she had no choice. People had formed opinions of her long before she got here, and apparently having money in this town automatically qualified you as acceptable in the in crowd. Or something. She couldn't completely wrap her head around it.

Not knowing what else to do, Gwen had left her car in the lot and sat on a bench in the commons, sketchbook in her hand. At the very least Dillon had some interesting scenery. It might add to her diversified art portfolio to draw some different scenery, give her mentor something different to look at than the urban LA scenes she'd done while in his other classes. As much as she hated to admit it, some action shots at the football game would have complemented a contrast piece nicely. Dillon and LA were worlds apart.

Gwen kept sketching, trying to keep her mind off of Grayson. She tried really hard, steering her thoughts in a different direction whenever she thought of him. Even thoughts about the blackboards in the classrooms, the rumors whispered about her and Tim all day, even the fact that she hated her class schedule all went back to Grayson. She thought she loved him, thought of him as the closest to family she'd ever had, but most of all, she thought he was her escape, her way out. Gwen had always hoped that she'd return to him in the future and she could just be Gwen, the girl Grayson loved, that was good at painting and liked to go running and attend concerts and donate time to charity work. Now? Now Gwen didn't know if she'd ever break away.

It took her a few minutes before she noticed the shadow that fell on her. She had stopped sketching, her pencil held limp in her hand as she stared off into space. Gwen finally snapped out of it, looking up at Smash, who was waiting for her thoughts to clear. What for? What did he want with her anyway? She was an outsider. Could that be the only reason?

"You're blocking my light," she said to him, shielding her eyes as she looked up at the tall football player.

"Didn't look like you were gettin' much drawing done. Come on," he said, and turned, gesturing for her to come with him.

Gwen followed Smash out to the patio. The general population of the school seemed to avoid this area for the most part. While Dillon High had very few outcasts present at the time, she could see the graffiti and other destruction done on the area, faded with time and neglected by most of the current students. He sat at the table, having grabbed her a Diet Coke from the vending machines already, she was surprised to see. His large hand pushed it across to her as he cracked open his blue Gatorade, gulping down half of the large-sized bottle in five seconds.

"So..." she started, gesturing to the air. Gwen had a genuinely puzzled look on her face.

"The Smash has a problem. It's Waverly," he said, pausing. He knew what the beginning probably sounded like, but Gwen had nothing to do with the situation, and he hoped that she didn't think his misbehavior Friday night had anything to do with what he was about to tell her.

"The Smash found her Saturday night. She wasn't... she ain't herself. She hasn't been off doin' charity stuff like she said. Her parents put her in a clinic or somethin' for bipolar people. Waverly's bipolar. Stuff gets around here real fast. The Smash... hell. I don't know what I'm supposed ta do 'bout it," he said, rubbing his hands over his sweaty head.

Gwen paused for a few minutes, thinking about what she should tell him. She had never had a friend who was bipolar before, but she knew the disorder, and that it wasn't an easy one to come to terms with. The silence lasted a while as she came up with her answer, formulated to the best of her ability. "Talk to her. Remind her that you're there for her. Tell her that she's still Waverly, and that she's still a valuable person. And if there's anything she needs, you can be there for her, and that things will get better," she finished. It was advice that she needed to hear herself really. Any good friend, in a time of crisis, does this. The world had a tendency to bring people down, good people who had no reason to deserve their twists of fate. True friends were the ones who lifted them back up.

"How can I have a relationship with someone who ain't all right up here?" he asked in return, though he had nodded through most of Gwen's statements.

Was that what he really wanted to know? If he left Waverly, would she be there to replace her? Don't flatter yourself Gwen, she thought, quickly shutting herself up. What was she supposed to respond to that? Tell him to stay with her like a good boy, and yet know that they wouldn't have a chance at a regular relationship? Or should she tell him to break contact with her like a cruel jerk? She was only eighteen. She couldn't possibly be a good source of advice for this situation. Luckily, she didn't have to be.

The commotion back outside of the locker room caused both of them to turn their heads. What had this ridiculous school done this time? At the very least, she wasn't in the middle of it for once. She hadn't quite reached old news status becoming involved with some of the star football players (she was really surprised that the entirety of last weekend's escapades with both Tim and Brian hadn't gotten out) but at least it was from what she'd done, not what she was. People needed something better to do in this town than talk about each other and watch football. Maybe an art gallery would add a little class, she thought wistfully, though she knew THAT would never happen. Daddy would always hate her art "habit".

Smash had already gotten up off the rounded concrete bench, moving back to the glass doors he had exited from. Just as quickly Gwen followed his commanding presence towards the area, jogging to keep up with his long, fast stride. Her eyes searched and looked for the source of the disturbance. She followed Smash into the boys' locker room, not caring that she wasn't supposed to be there. Gwen rushed in, putting her hand on Smash's left shoulder and leaning over to look at the situation.

All chaos had broken loose in the locker room. Guys in various states of dress or undress stood staring, unmoving from their positions of applying deodorant or towel-drying their hair. Most of their attention was directed towards the form of Tim Riggins, lying on the ground and holding his side, yelling bloody murder about how much it hurt. Most of them had no idea what to do in the situation, including Smash, who had completely stopped moving or doing anything. Had the illustrious Timothy Riggins gotten himself taken out by a fight with one of his own classmates or something?

"Tim?" she exclaimed, moving out from behind Smash and bending down to him. "What happened?" she asked from her kneeling position on the ground. He rolled from her and back, his legs instinctively curling into a fetal position. He looked up at her with his big hazel eyes, a scared look on his face. He reached out and grabbed her hand, surprising her and most of the other guys in the locker room, all of whom were too scared to do anything.

"I don't… know. Gwen. It f---ing hurts," he managed to stammer out, getting his breathing under control enough to stop yelling in pain.

He was quiet as he digested her question, as if he didn't know the answer. A loud groan escaped his lips as the pain came in waves to the normally indestructible football player. It was a noise that shook the place, though not literally, and all of his teammates seemed to manage a collective wince at Riggins' expression of pain. Coach Taylor rushed out from his office, coming into the locker room.

"What's happened? What's wrong with Riggins? Has anyone called 9-1-1 yet? I know some of y'all have cell phones. Why the hell is there a girl in my locker room?" he yelled out in a commanding voice. One of the other football players in the room had already called the emergency hotline, and she found the coach next to her, crouching down. "Why are you here?" he asked her, as he visually assessed Riggins, who had stopped thrashing about but had bit his lip closed, still in obvious pain.

"I think it's appendicitis," Gwen said, ignoring the coach's question. Holding the right side of his abdomen, screaming in pain, she'd guess a ruptured appendix. A bruised liver or kidney wouldn't hurt nearly as much, and internal bleeding would be a dull ache that Tim was likely to ignore. No, her opinion was appendix, but that could be deadly if it had in fact ruptured. Gwen leaned back on her heels, shifting her weight without letting go of Tim's hand, holding it tight, allowing him to squeeze the pain out. How long did it take for an ambulance to get to Dillon?


	14. Chapter 14

When someone close dies, things change. Gone are the days when things are all about the future- about getting older, about what kind of jobs to get, about what prom will be like and driving and dreaded college applications. The idea of "in the future I will" becomes less concrete, more like "in the future I might". Nightmares, terrors, worst fears all change. Instead of fearing the intangible, barely felt presence in the dark space between the floor and the bed, instead of the tentacles snaking from the closet, nightmares become all too real. Darkest visions show the deaths of those beloved, suffering in the hospital, shot in the head, or worse, growing old and senile to the point where they forget who they are, who their loved ones are. For Gwen, that moment came far too early in her young life.

Sirens bothered Gwen Phillips more than giant monsters in classic movies, more than the blood and gore of horror scenes, and certainly more than even nursing homes with their constant reminders of the frailty of human existence. The sirens would always come in under the window of her mother's hospital room, reminding her of the last days of the once vibrant, beautiful woman battling malignant cells. A faint hint of sirens would always be present in the memory of the night Cory died, from outside her limousine, whether the sound had really been there or not. Sirens reminded Gwen of the worst things to happen in her life, and the wailing fried her nerves, dug down to get at the center of her sanity.

They had the sirens on as they'd taken Tim to the hospital. She wouldn't let them kick her out, partially because she looked like she might go into shock herself and partially because Tim wouldn't let go of her hand no matter how hard they tried. His squeezing her hand kept her there, kept her focused, and kept her from going to that dark place in her mind. He had pushed the pain onto her, gritting his teeth and trying his best not to start screaming. Gwen had her eyes zeroed in on his, staring straight at his eyes over his face as the paramedics started to examine him and figure out the best way to stabilize him. She could see the fear in his eyes, looking down at him, and she knew she had to keep herself together, for him.

It wasn t a case of him faking to get attention or out of practice. He hadn t been drinking, at least not that it seemed, and she didn t think that Coach Taylor would allow his players to get dehydrated on the field. Besides, neither would explain the very sharp pain in his gut, one that he kept reaching over to grasp. The EMTs had to keep pushing his arm away from his abdomen, his free hand that kept going after the area. Gwen took care to not bump into him as the ambulance rounded a corner quickly.

An EMT had snatched Tim's arm from the affected spot and threaded a line into it, immobilizing him with the strength of an ox, or so it seemed considering how strong Tim was. She didn't know how much longer it would take to get to the local hospital, but she really didn't like the idea of staying in the ambulance. The rest of the ride was a blur of plastic lines and EMT elbows to her ribs as she struggled to keep herself from having a massive freak out in front of them.

Before she realized it, one of the EMTs had her by the arm and had pretty much yanked her out from the ambulance, helping her hold her balance while depositing her on the asphalt. Someone moved her bodily out of the way as they wheeled Tim off on the gurney, rushing through the ER doors. Gwen stood there with her right hand running through her long chestnut hair as the red lights from the ambulance flashed over her skin. It took a moment while she stood there until her brain kicked in and she moved towards the automatic sliding doors.

For an emergency room, the waiting area seemed fairly empty. She supposed that the lack of peak timing for Tim's injuries helped him get faster medical service. A mid-afternoon weekday in a hospital had few important cases going on, and from what she could see there wouldn't be many chances for distractions so she could sneak in. All in all, she spotted an old woman tended to by someone, presumably her daughter, and a young man cradling his left arm. Her eyes glanced up and saw the nurses' counter manned by a stocky woman with short hair.

The nurse stared her down from the counter. She looked like a woman who took a lot of nonsense and completely ignored most of it. Gwen knew she probably looked dazed from the ride, and certainly a lot confused. Gwen knew this woman wouldn't tolerate a whole lot of her trying to push her way into Tim's care, but she didn't know whether anyone else would show up to care for him. She knew he didn't have a mom, but did he have a dad? Did Coach Taylor follow the ambulance? Either way, she needed to make sure that no one kept her away from him if he needed her.

A little white lie couldn't hurt at the moment, and someone had to look after Tim in the meantime. She'd taken acting classes, done drama club and the school plays in New York as a freshman. Walking straight up to the secretary at the desk, Gwen pushed her hair back and tried her best to look young and worried and clueless.

"Pardon me, ma'am, my name's Taryn, and the..." Gwen paused to wipe a tear from her eye, "that's my brother Tim they just brought in, an' I think he's hurt real bad like..." Another sniffle escaped her lips before she twisted an end of her hair between her fingers. The southern accent worked like a charm, and she figured being in the area helped her to nail the accent.

"Can I see some identification miss?" The nurse said this in a bored, uninterested voice, with a hint of unbelief.

"I'm only sixteen; I'm just his kid sister. I ain't got a learner's permit or nothin'. Look, I'm real worried about Tim and if you could just please keep me informed, I'd really appreciate it."

The nurse stared her down for a second, as if trying to decide whether to believe Gwen.

"You have anyone coming to look after you?"

"My uncle is coming soon, I think... I'll be fine. I won't get into trouble or anything," she said, wringing her hands together.

"Take a seat over there. We'll send the doctors your way."

Gwen took a deep breath, gave the nurse a meek smile, and turned away, relieved. York Prep's acting classes had done the trick. For the moment she was safe, but she needed to keep her head about her. The lie wouldn't last forever.

Her fingers slipped to her pocket, where she still had her iPhone tucked safely inside. She'd left her purse in her locker, thinking the conversation with Smash couldn't take too long, but experienced a minute of momentary panic when she realized she'd left her sketchbook on the concrete tables outside of the lunch room where she and Smash had been chatting. Taking a deep breath she told herself she couldn't do anything about it at the moment.

Pulling her phone out, Gwen stared down at it. Her first thought, when the word 'help' came to mind, was to call Grayson. When she had trouble before, whenever she needed help, she always called Grayson first. Somehow he'd help her figure things out, look something up for her when she couldn't get internet on either of her smartphones, or just calm her down enough that she could figure out her own solution. But she had to remind herself that calling Grayse wasn't an option anymore. She had to figure things out on her own.

Using her thumb she tabbed through her contacts on her iPhone, mentally thinking of the location of each person in her phone. Soon she came to a number that she rested her finger on, debating for half a second whether to use it. Pulling this off would require strength and resources, which this one call would get her.

"Daddy... I need your help."

It was a few hours after she'd explained the situation to her father, and he had played it brilliantly. She had no idea how he'd intercepted Tim's older brother before he could get there, or figured out how to get Coach Taylor to keep his mouth shut, but he did and for that she was grateful. Billy Riggins had come in and pretended to be concerned for his "little sister" as well, and her dad had even showed up with a care package. For once, he actually looked concerned about her situation and whereabouts, but she figured he probably thought it was pretty bad if she'd asked him for a favor.

She had opened the bag he brought her and found a bunch of things that were actually useful. Surprisingly he had stuffed it with Diet Coke, Odwalla bars and a couple of books from her bookshelf. He had never approved of her interest in art, but literature was more than acceptable. It had everything she needed in there, including a toothbrush. Maybe her father knew her better than she thought.

The doctors had let her into his hospital room after the end of the surgery. Billy had split a little while after, wringing his hat in his hands and explaining he had to get to work in the morning and that he appreciated Gwen's help but it really wasn't necessary. She'd waved him off, having no intentions of leaving Tim by himself after a near miss with a ruptured appendix. Settling herself into the comfortable chair at his bedside, Gwen had cracked open a Diet Coke, snarfed down a berry Odwalla, and reached in the bag for one of her favorite books.

"Visiting hours are almost over," a voice said, and Gwen lifted her head up from the copy of The Great Gatsby that her father had surprisingly thought to bring her.

Closing the cover of the book, Gwen ran her fingers over the gilded letters as she looked up to see someone she didn't expect. At the doorframe stood none other than Lyla Garrity, not a nurse with a hospital badge and chart. Glancing up to the clock hanging on the wall, Gwen noted the time. It looked to be about 8:58 in the evening, only a couple of minutes before visiting hours ended and anyone but family had to go home. While the nurses had figured out she wasn't Tim's sister, they said nothing.

"That's right, visiting hours are almost over," Gwen replied, crossing one of her long tanned legs over the other. "Better make it quick before they kick you out."

"It's family only after 9 o'clock. You barely know him."

"I'm his kid sister. Ask anyone around here. Taryn Riggins, sixteen years old, in the flesh."

"You're breaking the rules. How did you get past everyone? Everyone 'round here knows Tim doesn't have a sister," Lyla said, crossing her arms over her chest.

"My father donated millions for a new wing. Even if they figured it out, they haven't said anything."

Gwen pushed herself back and sighed. This conversation wasn't going in a direction she wanted it to go. Her eyes looked over Lyla, standing there with both her hands on her brown leather tote bag, as if someone would steal it even in the hospital. Her delicate silver cross rested on top of her short-sleeved white sweater top, sitting just over the waistband of her dark wash jeans. But none of this interested Gwen. What interested Gwen sat on a band of silver around Lyla's left ring finger.

"You're sick. Is this what you do? Come in and get whatever you want because of Daddy's money?"

Lyla's face had a look on it, a look that Gwen had seen a million times before. Contempt, jealousy, anger, all wrapped up into one scathing look. Someone had found themselves at the wrong end of the Phillips' monetary bulldozer and didn't like it very much.

"My father pledged the money long before we even moved in. So, now that we're bosom buddies, let's talk about that ring on your finger. This isn't your fianc . So why do you look like his widow?"

At this comment, a red blush filled out through Lyla's cheeks.

"Look, I'm engaged to his best friend. I just wanted to check in on him. His dad's useless and it's not like his brother to stick around. I thought Tim could use a familiar face to wake up to," she said, immediately taking up the defensive. Her grip on the wide leather straps of her bag tightened, curling the strips in her fist. Gwen took a minute, straightened herself up, and gave Lyla a hard look.

"All the more reason you shouldn't be here. I know what it's like to be on the outside of an engagement looking in. Don't make it worse. Go home, Lyla. It isn't fair to the man who bought you the ring."

It had been a long day, and Gwen just couldn't put up the fight to really take the girl down a few pegs that evening. She barely remembered class that morning, or that it had been morning at one point. Normally, the verbal whiplash would have had Lyla hearing bitter words in her head for weeks, but for that night, she had no desire to destroy Queen Lyla. The look in her eyes changed, and Gwen knew that she had her.

"You tell him I stopped by, okay? Take good care of him," Lyla said, before turning on her heel and leaving the hospital room.

Gwen looked down to see Tim's eyelids fluttering open as Lyla's steps became softer and softer echoes down the hallway. She looked at him in surprise, the look in her eyes questioning whether he had heard the whole exchange or not. Would he be angry?

"Glad ya stuck around Gwenny," he mumbled, his eyes looking at her with a sleepy half-droop.

It didn't matter though, that Tim had almost died, or that his body had just gone through an ordeal that would keep most people in bed for at least a week. Gwen sat there, still stroking his hair gently, as she would have done for her brother if she had one. She could try to protect him, sure, as his family would if they actually had given a damn or had half the values her dead mother had. But Gwen knew they would be fighting an uphill battle, partially against Tim's own mind. The dreaded semi-finals were approaching fast and damn it all to hell if Tim thought he'd play without a clean bill of health. Football was a sport, not his whole life, wasn't it?

"Go back to sleep, Timmy. I'll be here when you wake up. Someone's gotta run PR for you while you get your beauty rest."

He squeezed her left hand and let his head lull to the side of the pillow. Settling back into the chair next to his bed, Gwen picked up her book and continued to read. Tim would be alright, she knew, but would he be alright in time? 


End file.
